


The Trouble With Familiars

by amusewithaview



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Familiars, Gen, involuntary magical transformations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-12
Updated: 2007-05-12
Packaged: 2019-09-22 13:25:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17060615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview/pseuds/amusewithaview
Summary: Dawn winds up in a pet shop - but not as a customer. She joins Slytherin House - but not as a student. She gets a new family - and is it really a surprise that they're just as protective of her as her last one?





	The Trouble With Familiars

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tthfanfic between 12 May 2007 - 15 Feb 2010.
> 
> https://www.tthfanfic.org/wholestory.php?no=12723#chapter1

###  1\. Magical Mishap

Disclaimer: I own nothing, all is Joss's or Rowling's. Woe is me.

**_ THIS WAS AT ONE POINT MEANT TO BE THE START OF A TRILOGY, BUT THE TRILOGY HAS NOT YET AND MAY NEVER BE FINISHED. IF YOU START READING THIS STORY, PLEASE BE WARNED THAT AT THIS POINT THE AUTHOR HAS NO PLANS TO FINISH SAID TRILOGY, THEREFORE WHAT YOU WILL BE READING IS THE BEGINNING OF AN ARC. IF YOU FEEL AS THOUGH YOU CAN READ A BEGINNING WITHOUT GETTING TO A MIDDLE OR AN END, FEEL FREE TO CONTINUE. IF NOT, HOWEVER, TURN BACK WHILE YOU STILL CAN. _ **

♦♦♦ **Why Dawn Should Not Be Playing With Magic** ♦♦♦

Dawn stretched luxuriously, putting her front paws as far forward as they would go and arching her back until her furred belly touched the ground.

This whole 'kneazle' gig wasn't so bad. Ok, the whole 'being an animal' thing was a sort of hard to adjust to, but she had been desperate. Buffy had no time for her, Spike was obsessed with his Slayer, and Xander was with Anya 24/7. So she had gamely tagged along to England with Giles, Willow and Tara, conveniently forgetting that all three would be busy with the redhead's recuperation and 'black magic detox.'

_Idle hands are the devil's playground,_ mused Dawn, _I certainly proved that to be correct... except for the 'hands' part._

At the first chance she had nabbed a few magic books. She really felt that she could not be held culpable for succumbing to her klepto impulses in this instance; they had been just laying there, collecting dust! After a quick skim of a few of the 'easier' magics, she had taken to practicing when her fellow Sunnydalers were all out of the house (one of the members of the Devon Coven rented beach houses during the summer and was perfectly willing to allow the Americans to stay). As they were out nearly _all_ the _time_ , she got a lot of practicing done. So much so that she got a little over-confident.

_Ok,_ Dawn admitted to herself, _A lot over-confident…_

And decided to try out one of the cooler-looking self-transformations she'd found. The 'Animagus' Transformation allowed the caster to become their true inner animal. After going through and completing all the preparation - a task which took her well into June - she had at last been ready to begin.

Standing in the circle, she had concentrated, oh how she'd concentrated! Until she felt something beginning to change. As per the spell's instructions, she had kept her eyes shut and continued to concentrate on her chanting, determined to get it right on her very first try.

Her vocal chords changed rather quickly, but that was to be expected, so she continued the mantra in her head. When she felt a reasonable amount of time had gone by, she opened her eyes.

Low to the ground, _very_ low to the ground. Dawn was now short enough to easily determine spot the mistake she had made in her runes. It wasn't a BIG blunder: she'd stroked left, when she should've stroked right. Not so bad in the grand scheme of things… right?

Wrong. As she quickly discovered when she tried to change back. She was stuck.

Stuck as what?

Using her new improved, muscular legs (all four of them), she leapt up to the vanity and looked herself over in her mirror. She was… a cat? A very odd-looking cat: her ears were large and rounded, like a lionesses' and her tail had a bit of a tuft on the end of it. Her coat was the same brown color as her hair, but it seemed to add to the overall 'queen-of-the-jungle' look she had going on. Her eyes, she was relieved to see, were the same bright blue as ever.

_Darn,_ she had thought, _Might as well go exploring until everybody gets home and I get grounded till I'm thirty._

That stupid, fateful decision had led her to where she was right now. Stuck in a pet shop. Not just _any_ pet shop, but a _magical_ one. She had known from the instant she'd been brought here when the owner of the shop, a rather pleasant but dim-seeming woman, had tapped her with a long wooden stick, causing her glossy new fur to glow green for a moment.

"A pure-bred kneazle!" The blonde woman had said with surprise, "You wouldn't think so from her coat, now would you?"

The man who had kidnapped her shuffled his feet, "A'course, would I bring you anything' but a pure one, Dora m'dear?"

Two pairs of eyes rolled, one kneazle, one woman. "Of course you would, Dung, if you thought you could get away with it," the shopkeeper scolded. "But you've done good, she's not even been registered yet. You say you found her wandering the streets?"

"Yes'um, now about my pay…"

"You'll get your pay, you rap-scallywag, just as soon as I get this little beauty settled."

Dawn relaxed in the woman's grip, she had such kind eyes.

"I know!" 'Dora' exclaimed, "We'll call you Regina! That's the Latin name for the Alpha female in a lion pride, and you look like _such_ a little lioness!"

Before Dawn knew what was happening, she'd been shut into a room with almost a dozen other 'kneazles' and assorted pillows for said animals to lie on. Looking from her paws to the doorknob, the teen mourned the loss of her opposable thumbs... though the claws were kinda fun.

And that was how she'd spent the last month. Lying around on cushions while wizard after wizard walked by, hoping one of these kneazles would be their Familiar. In all the time that she'd been here, Dawn had only seen one _true_ Familiar bond occur:

A wizened old witch had entered the shop looking rather grim, when one of the kneazles - a black-on-gray-spotted one - had stiffened suddenly. The kneazle and witch had looked into one another's eyes for a long time before the witch suddenly broke away with tears streaming down her wrinkled face.

"Never thought it'd happen again, after m'Isabella died," the old witch had sobbed, clutching the furred body to her ample chest, as 'Franco' the kneazle purred ferociously in her ear.

"There, there," said Dora the shopkeeper comfortingly, "They say that, like love, those who've had a true Familiar once are more likely to find one again!"

It was now the beginning of August, and more and more young wizards and witches were coming through the shop. Apparently their school-year started at around the same time as the 'muggle' academic year.

Dawn was bored: bored with being petted too roughly by young children, bored with being stuck in this shop, bored with being a kneazle!

The little bell above the door tinkled, letting Dora know that someone had entered. Dawn felt an odd tingling sensation between her ears and shook her head violently. If kneazles could frown, she would have done so, as she looked out and surveyed the newest customers.

There was a tall woman in all black with beautiful long blonde hair, beside her was what Dawn assumed to be her son. Blue eyes widened, he was a Spike-alike!

The strange tingling increased, and Dawn found herself being propelled forward until she was twining around the Spike-alike's feet.

She dodged his hands as he bent to pick her up, preferring to climb up his robes until she could settle herself around his neck. A picture of comfort formed in her mind, and with an instinctive _push_ she sent it to the boy. _Not boy,_ she reminded herself, _He looks like he might even be older than me!_

"Well, Draco," an amused female voice drawled, "It appears that you've found your Familiar after all!"

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  2\. Welcome to Malfoy Manor

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦ **A Lioness In A Snake's Nest** ♦♦♦

Dawn woke abruptly to the sound of someone yawning. She blinked furiously, realized reluctantly that she would not be getting more shut-eye any time soon, and rose.

One of the best parts about her new feline form was the ability to sleep anywhere and everywhere at the drop of a hat. Catnaps were fantastic fun, she had never felt so rested before in her entire life.

Soft muttering drew her attention and she let her gaze flick over to where her Wizard was sitting, hunched over a book. Draco Mercury Malfoy was doing the same thing he'd been doing since she woke him up two nights ago: researching.

Dawn sauntered over to him and curled against his arm, mewling quietly. He jerked in surprise, turning wide silver-gray eyes her way before his lips twitched into a small smile.

"Latin is a dreadful language," he informed her, rubbing at his face tiredly with his hand, the other was happily occupied in scratching at Dawn's rounded ears.

She purred her encouragement, ear-rubs felt like a wonderful combination of back-scratch and massage.

Turning back to the ancient text before him Draco continued, "Apparently the Familiar-bond depends on three key things: how intelligent the Familiar, how magical the bonded are, and how long you're together."

_Well, as the once-vessel for an inter-dimensional supernatural force called the Key, I'd say I'm pretty darn magical. There's some Slayer blood in me too… not to mention the fact that I'm HUMAN! Hello? How the heck does_ that _work out?_

Draco frowned, "I wish you could just _speak_." He sighed, his fingers finding their way to a forelock that he seemed to tug whenever he was thinking hard, "But it says that mind-speech doesn't usually develop until somewhere between the third and thirtieth year of bonding, if it happens at all!"

She butted her head against his arm and tried to send him soothing thoughts; Kneazles were naturally empathic, it was how they discerned friend from foe. As near as she could tell her bond with Draco attuned her empathy to the blonde so she could see how trustworthy people were towards _him_.

This discovery had not been a fun one, though it had deepened the bond she shared with her Wizard. Discovering that they were both a part of the Deadbeat Dads Club was enough to make her overlook that fact that Draco was a bit of a 'prat.'

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

It was her second night in Malfoy Manor and she was beginning to get used to the house. The rooms were large, even for humans, but decorated in luscious colors and luxurious fabrics that made her inner shopaholic want to scream in delight.

_Buffy would love this place,_ Dawn thought wistfully, _At least, she would've pre-mortem._ The Slayer had changed drastically since coming back from Heaven. Nothing on earth could hold a candle to what she had lost, and a fake sister along with a handful of well-meaning but clueless friends weren't enough for her to keep up the façade of liveliness.

The only company not completely intolerable to the blonde was Spike's. Dawn figured it was because they were both part of the _I-Crawled-Out-Of-My-Grave-And-Unlived-To-Tell-The-Tale Club_. The peroxide vampire's all-consuming love for the Slayer was hurtful, but Dawn could live with it. He was the only thing that brought even a little bit of Buffy back to those blank hazel eyes.

Willow and Xander had had a hard time accepting the changes they'd wrought in their friend. When Giles had offered Anya the opportunity to open a San Francisco branch of the Magic Box Store, the ex-demon had leapt at the chance - dragging an oh-so-willing carpenter along for the ride.

The Wicca's reaction to these events had been… less healthy. Faced with what she saw as the abandonment of her two closest friends she turned increasingly towards magic and Tara for her warmth and comfort. Eventually leading to the computer nerd's transformation into Black-Magic-Willow.

_I'd be surprised if they even noticed that I'm missing,_ Dawn thought sadly from her curled-up position on the end of Draco's silk-covered bed. _There's nothing for me back there, nothing at all…_ She had all the ingredients for depression right there: abandonment, check; feeling alone in the world, check; knowing that nobody can understand you, check!

Movement from the supposedly sleeping Draco interrupted that self-pitying train of thought. He had begun to thrash and moan in his dreams, little whimpers escaping his lips and clenched teeth.

Dawn leapt to avoid one twitching leg and landed on his bare shoulder. With the skin-to-fur contact she was instantly sucked into the nightmare that had so disturbed him. The images were fuzzy, but she was looking at it from an outsider's perspective. Panic began to filter through her as she mewled unhappily.

There, held prostrate against a wall was her Wizard; though he looked somewhat younger than she had ever seen him, and the black-robed figure pointing a wand at him must be his tormentor. The dark man seemed almost to glow with a sickly purple light in her gaze. She raced forward and curled against Draco's foot, trying to offer some modicum of support. What the heck was she supposed to DO? There hadn't exactly been a Familiar's 101, pre-transformation! How on earth had she jumped into his dream?

"You continue to defy me," the cool voice of the robed figure hissed. The former-Key shivered at the malice in his tone. " _CRUCIO_!"

A heavy grunt tore out of Draco before he could control himself, blood trickled down his chin from biting his lip between his teeth. His hoarse breaths were enough to make Dawn wish she were the lioness she resembled so she could tear the head off this monster who hurt her Wizard!

"You'll have to do better than that," Draco spat blood from his mouth, glaring daggers at his captor. "Give me one good reason? Why should I do it?"

The Big Bad flipped his hood back, and Dawn gasped. He looked like an older, less sane, version of Draco! From his long white-blonde hair to the cold gray eyes he was the spitting image of her Wizard.

A cold smile grew on Lucius Malfoy's lips, "Because, I have… collateral." With a lazy wand wave suddenly a piece of wall that had seemed bare was disillusioned and the bonded pair saw who lay there.

Pale blonde locks turned a bold brassy red with blood and face swollen almost to unrecognizable heights, Narcissa Malfoy lifted her head slowly, trying to say something. Wracking coughs shook her petite frame and a spatter of blood hit the already-stained floor.

_Oh no he didn't!_ Dawn gasped, _Ok, that's it, this is JUST a dream, and we're getting the heck outta Dodge!_ She spun and bit Draco's ankle, hard.

"Regina? What are you doing here?" He seemed confused, but as he looked at her, realization seemed to trickle in. "A dream, a bloody fucking nightmare!"

Suddenly Dawn was thrown from shoulder to lap as Draco sat up, gasping for breath. She immediately set up purring and rubbing her fur against his bare skin, trying to soother the tremors that still set him to shivering.

"What the hell was that?" Draco frowned and plucked his Familiar from his lap, holding her so that his eyes were level with hers, "How did you do that?"

She sent a feeling of questioning towards him, and he shook his head, smiling a little. "S'not comforting that you have as little clue as I do, Reg," he murmured and yawned. Dawn swiped at him, claws retracted, and he smiled. "Guess I've got something else I should be doing…" He flipped the covers back and swung his feet over the side of the bed, twisting his head around to answer her unspoken question, "Research, lots and lots of research…"

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

The former-Key came back from her reminiscence with a jolt. Draco smirked at her from where he'd just slammed his book shut. She snarled at him.

"Sorry, but I'm barely finding _anything_. All of Malfoy Library at my disposal and we have not. One. Bloody. Useful. Thing. On. Familiars!" Each of his little one-word sentences was punctuated by his fist slamming down on the table.

Dawn sent a picture of sleeping Draco ensconced in blankets to him hopefully, he had not really been to bed since that night of nightmares. Not that she was eager to repeat those circumstances, not at all, but he needed some shut-eye that wasn't snatched from the binding of a book!

"Alright, Regina, we'll head to Borgin and Burkes tomorrow, maybe they'll have some books on the… darker aspects of Familiars."

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  3\. Regina and the Invisibles

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Dawn coughed violently, she hated this. She would always hate this. In fact she would probably rate Buffy's driving above Floo-Travel.

Long fingers caressed her nape comfortingly, "I'll keep you in my cloak next time, eh?"

A baleful glare was the only response to Draco's flip comment. Twisting, she writhed out of his grasp and climbed up his arm to drape herself across his shoulder, making sure to hook her kittenish claws in with each step.

"Alright, alright! Damn Kneazle," the blonde muttered. He received more than one odd glance for talking to a pet, though most found something less interesting to occupy their eyes once they saw _who_ it was that was doing the speaking. Floo-Travelers were common at this time of year, Draco vacated the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron quickly. Not that he enjoyed the establishment, quite the opposite in fact. But it was a useful entrance when he didn't want to make too much of a fuss.

Diagon Alley was at its most prosperous in this, the first week of August. Muggle-borns stared with unabashed wonder at the magical world that they'd only just discovered, while pure-bloods enjoyed the time with friends that they'd not seen in weeks. Talk of the war was everywhere though, and it threw a dark pallor over what should have been a joyful time.

Draco ignored it all, he had but one destination on this street: Eeylop's Owl Emporium. Finding Regina had been a stroke of miraculous good fortune, but that didn't mean he wouldn't need a new owl to replace Orion. The proud eagle-owl had been lamed by a rather aggressive attack from the Whomping Willow. He was no longer up to long flights, and would be spending the rest of his days breeding up future generations.

The shop was dark and musty-smelling, Dawn liked it immediately, and not just because of all the feathers there were to play with. She watched as her Wizard scanned the perches, he was obviously looking for something in particular. Suddenly he halted his search and glanced at her, a speculative look on his face.

"What do you think, Reg?"

Dawn nipped at his ear, _Don't call me Reg!_

He yelped and fingered the sore lobe, favoring her with a glare before repeating his query.

She scanned the shop looking at all the birds. There were large owls and small owls and owls that didn't look like any nocturnal bird SHE'D ever seen before. Flicking back and forth over the selection, suddenly her eyes caught and held on a rather indistinct bird towards the back.

Dawn leaped down from Draco's shoulder and made another rather spectacular jump to land on a perch not too far from the bird she'd spotted.

"What do we have here?" The silver-eyed teen held out a hand for the owl to inspect; it hooted softly and stepped onto his wrist with a dainty air. The bird regarded him with cool, disinterested golden eyes before turning it's head to favor Dawn with an acknowledging coo of approval.

Despite the soothing/happy/delight feelings he was receiving from his Familiar, Draco regarded the dust-colored bird somewhat dubiously.

"That bird… has not allowed anyone to hold him since he first arrived," the shopkeeper said, obviously startled when Draco came to the front to make his purchase.

The owl in question snapped his beak out and let it click ominously at the man, causing the shopkeeper to regard him warily.

The Kneazle merely watched with amused blue eyes.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

After ensuring that his new familiar would be delivered to Malfoy Manor post-haste, Draco and Dawn began to make their way towards their _real_ destination.

Dawn enjoyed her position; wrapped around her Wizard's collar she looked like nothing more than a decorative puff of fur. She purred ferociously into his ear, causing him to laugh: a mellow sound that instantly made her redouble her rumbling efforts.

Borgin and Burkes was a rather… shadier place than Eeylop's. As such it was found down another alley entirely: Knockturn Alley gave the former Key the wiggins.

Everyone she saw had the same purple glow: untrustworthy. She shivered and mewled her displeasure.

"Just coming to get a few books, Regina, we'll be back home in no time at all."

Her feelings of unease were trebled when she heard someone following behind them, being unable to talk had some serious downsides. The teen mentally added a workable tongue and vocal chords to opposable thumbs under her internal list of _Body Parts I Didn't Appreciate Till They Were Gone_.

Draco's purchases were hurried and he used Borgin's Floo. His Familiar's unease had put him in a similarly wary state of mind. His father might be imprisoned, but not all of Voldemort's supporters were. And the likelihood of running into one of his father's old 'friends' increased with every moment spent on the street.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

_I swear, this guy studies more than Willow and Giles combined!_ Dawn moaned, her tale lashing in frustration. Every day she spent in this form made it more and more natural to her.

Although she didn't think she'd ever get used to tongue-baths. Or hairballs. _Blech!_

Draco was crouched over yet another old, dusty book. Not that Dawn had anything against old, dusty books, in fact she rather liked them. They tasted like learning and smelled like exotic spices, but they were dang dull when you couldn't understand what was written in them!

Dawn was a mistress of languages like Latin, Sumerian, and French, but the concepts in some of these tomes made Willow's old Magic Books look like finger paints to their Van Gogh's!

Magical theory had never been one of Dawn's strong points, not even when Willow was lucid enough to teach her. Knowing the WHY had never been as important to her as knowing WHAT the result was.

_If it ain't broke, don't fix it,_ Dawn thought morosely. Her Wizard had been trying to 'fix' their connection for the past week now and she was fed up! If he didn't do something other than study soon she was going to -

"Master Draco? You is having guests!" The trembling, squeaky voice of Ziggy the House Elf came from just beyond the table. Dawn perked up noticeably at the appearance of the small green critter. Even if these 'guests' proved to be dull as drying paint, maybe she could play a quick round of chase-the-elf before Draco noticed, just to bring some excitement into her day.

Her teeth glimmered in the kneazle-equivalent of a grin, _I guess I won't have to do something drastic after all!_

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  4\. Writing on the Tummy?

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Dawn was draped around Draco's neck yet again, it was officially her favorite spot to relax. The easy access to his ear - for purring or swiping purposes - was a definite bonus.

Another perk was not having to walk everywhere though the house. As far as she was concerned, the Draco-Express was hands-down the best way to travel. Currently their destination was the Green Tea Room, as opposed to the Blue, Red, or Yellow Tea Rooms.

_Narcissa seriously needs to get a new decorator, or maybe grow an imagination!_ Not that the other tea rooms were actually used for, well, drinking tea. The names, Dawn had come to realize, were definite misnomers. The Blue Tea Room was really more of an observatory, it housed a rather marvelous telescope that she would've been itching to try out. That is, if she still had opposable thumbs.

The Red Tea Room had large western-facing windows, and numerous shelves absolutely _full_ of more books than Dawn had ever seen in one place… barring the Malfoy Library of course. The former-Key was convinced that their Library was the sole reason behind the deforestation of the Amazon Forest. It was obscene... and again she was wishing for opposable thumbs!

She had not yet had the opportunity to explore the wonders of the Yellow Tea Room, she preferred to stick by Draco. He was probably more entertaining than anything else this mansion had to offer (barring the occasional appearance of a House Elf to harrass), and besides: going too far away from him made her… itchy. It was uncomfortable and caused a sense of wrongness to grow within her for each step beyond a certain distance.

All things considered it was much easier to do what she was doing now: let him carry her around. Draco didn't seem to mind, all grumbling aside. He sort of reminded her of a male Cordelia: all bark and a rather sharp-toothed bite if you got on their bad side. Not that she'd had the opportunity or the inclination to get on her Wizard's bad side. She was comfortable assuming until she had the opportunity to observe him proving her right.

Draco paused outside the door to the Green Tea Room and straightened clothing that might have wrinkled or become dusty from too many hours in the library. Dawn nipped his ear gently when he fixed his collar, she was comfortable!

With a muttered: "Damn Kneazle," he opened the door and strode through stopping short at the sight of the two rather unhappy occupants of the room.

"Where the hell have you been? Pansy's been in a tizzy waiting for you," drawled the boy sprawled lazily in Draco's favorite chair.

"Yes, do tell us, Drakie-Poo," came a sharper, feminine voice from off to Draco's right, "Why you haven't Flooed OR written OR made ANY attempt to contact EITHER of us!"

With flourish, the blonde Slytherin sank into his second-favorite chair. "I have not Flooed OR written OR made ANY attempt to contact EITHER of you… because of her," he jerked his thumb towards Regina and was rewarded with a pointedly sharp nip.

"Her? Who is 'her?'" The owner of the sharp voice stepped forward, and Dawn got her first good look at her. She had long almost-black hair framing large dark eyes and a face that was faintly pinched, as if from perpetual worry or disdain. She glowed with a faint blue color similar to an autumn sky and Dawn relaxed a little: she was trustworthy.

"Yes, Drake, do elaborate, not all of us have your talent for speaking in 'vague,'" the boy leaned forward to inspect Dawn with clear amber eyes. His gaze flicked from Draco's smug smile to the feline draped across him and his eyes widened in surprised realization, "A true Familiar? You lucky bastard."

_Pretty,_ Dawn's human side squealed. She climbed down her Wizard's arm and leapt to his friend's chair, perching on the back so as to inspect him more easily. Long dark hair hung down curling messily and framing a strong face with classic Mediterranean good looks. If she'd still been human… major crushage. Definitely.

The boy held out a hand to her, to let her sniff him she presumed. The former-Key restrained the impulse to roll her eyes, it didn't translate well in this feline body. His aura was a blue more clear and pure even than the girl's, she leapt down into his lap and butted his chin with her head, _Pet me!_

"Yes Blaise, a true Familiar, it WAS a bit of a shock." The blonde teenager smiled at the naked envy on Pansy's face, "You two are the first to find out." He frowned, "I've been doing a lot of research on Familiars lately, trying to find out what's… normal. You two wouldn't happen to know anything, would you?"

Blaise stroked Dawn from nose to tail and she purred furiously. Gently he coaxed her to lie down in his lap, she did so without a qualm. She rolled to her side for a belly-rub, not noticing the frown that flitted over the handsome boy's face.

"Draco? Come look at this, this is definitely strange…"

The other boy came to stand beside his friend's chair, "What is it Blaise?"

"These markings, they don't look normal, aren't Kneazles usually striped all over?" The two boys inspected Regina's stomach with frowns on their faces, soon Pansy joined them as well, stroking the feline's soft brown fur as they contemplated the mystery.

There on Regina's belly, just above her hind legs, were two mirror-image diagonal slashes of pure white fur. Sharply in contrast to the rest of her, Draco wondered how he could have ignored them. Each was about three inches long, thin, and strange… definitely strange.

"If you didn't notice these," Pansy gestured to indicate the stripes, "Why did you start looking for information on Familiars?"

Draco shot her a faintly condescending look, "Well aside from wanting to know more about Familiars in general…" He trailed off frowning, and gestured for Pansy to take a seat as he sank back down into his own chair. "A few nights ago, I started dreaming about the night Lucius made me pledge."

Both of his friends winced in sympathy, when he came back from that Winter Holiday his temper had been shorter than ever, causing some of the younger Slytherins to dub him the 'Dragon.'

"Right when it started getting to get to the really interesting bit, Regina appeared in my dream and woke me up."

Blaise frowned, "D'you mean she woke you up and then you dreamed about her, or - "

"She was _in_ my dream, she bit my ankle to wake me up," the blonde rubbed at the offending appendage in pained remembrance.

"That _is_ strange. And you can't find anything useful on Familiars in your library?"

"No," Draco smiled, "It's the one bit of magic my father couldn't find a use for."

Pansy frowned, "Odd, that. You'd think that he'd want to know everything about Familiars, they're incorruptibly loyal to their bonded."

"Yes, but the thought of _relying_ on an _animal_?" Draco smirked, "That's not dignified enough for him, he won't take the chance that his Familiar would be a rat or something."

"More likely a flobberworm," Pansy muttered, causing the two boys to shoot her appreciative grins.

"Well," Blaise said, sitting back and giving Dawn's fur one last rub, "That tells us why you haven't Flooed, but you could've scribbled off a short message in between study breaks, couldn't you?"

Dawn meowed her thoughts on THAT idea, inspiring a chuckle from Pansy at the Kneazle's obviously disgusted tone.

"It seems she likes your obsessive habits about as much as we do," Pansy giggled, the smile and laughter transforming her features into something truly pretty.

"What is the poor things name, anyways?"

Draco shot Blaise a dark look, "Her name's Regina, and why is she a 'poor thing?'"

Amber eyes innocent, the teen inquired, "Why Draco, doesn't she have to put up with _you_?"

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  5\. Those who can't do...

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦ **Catnapping - Interludes and Introspection** ♦♦♦

Giles laid his glasses on the bedside table and collapsed into the blue chair beside it.

One of his children was missing. Had been missing for almost two months.

This was not the first time something of this nature had happened to him. Almost four years ago Buffy Summers had run away and fended for herself successfully for a full three months.

Three agonizing months.

But this time was different, this time Dawn was the one who was missing. Dawn who was only fifteen. Dawn who still sometimes needed waking from her childish nightmares. Dawn who was the baby of the Scoobies. Dawn who they had neglected and vaguely ignored until suddenly she wasn't there.

Giles massaged the bridge of his nose, willing away the tension-headache that was beginning to build somewhere in the vicinity of his teeth.

The disappearance of the former Key coupled with the magical sigils they had found in her room had convinced Willow that this was all her fault. After all, Dawn had only gotten interested in magic after seeing all the spells and helpful tricks Willow was capable of. Everyone knew that Dawn's eternal ambition was to be considered a worthy member of the Scooby Gang, a yearning that was subtly encouraged by all the current members as it made the volatile teen easier to deal with. She held each and every one of them on a pedestal.

Gods, how they had failed her.

Almost two months she'd been missing, and not a trace of her. With the help of the coven, Tara had been able to ascertain that the magical signatures and runes were similar to those of the Animagus Transformation.

Now they had no idea what they were looking for.

He could not help feeling slightly resentful towards the teenager for choosing such a _difficult_ time to disappear. Willow was not allowed to float a pencil, let alone try something as advanced as a Location Spell. Tara was occupied with her girlfriend, rebuilding the bond of trust between them and re-gathering her own inner well of magics from Willow's Black-Attack.

Buffy… well, she was barely able to find _herself_ of a morning, let alone her sister. It was better for all concerned if the Slayer stayed focused on the Hellmouth. Let Spike tell her that Dawn was missing, once she'd had a little more time to recover from her resurrection.

Gods, if only… But that was the problem, there was no 'only.' Without the 'hairy eyeball' as Willow so eloquently put it, Dawn had wandered into magics that were far too advanced for her, and now she was reaping the benefits… wherever she was.

All in all, it was beginning to appear that this London summer holiday would turn into a full-fledged relocation. Until Dawn was found, they would have to stay in the mother country. No large problem for him, but his 'children' would need work, especially once Willow was on the mend.

Maybe he would have to look into that letter Dumbledore had sent him. After all, with Willow out of commission, those who can't do…

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###  6\. One Who Believed In Gods

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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Draco smiled gently down at the Kneazle happily ensconced in his lap.

It was strange, strange and wonderful, this new development in his life.

A Familiar, _his_ Familiar. He, Draco Malfoy, had found his Familiar.

A genuine smile spread across his face as he brushed his fingers delicately over Regina's soft brown fur. His mother had dragged him through Dora's little shop every summer since his terrible twos, fanatically determined that he have every possible opportunity to find his Familiar.

And he had. Against all odds, and the phrase 'long shot' had been invented for situations such as this, he had found her and she was currently curled in his lap providing a living blanket of warmth.

It was strange, strange and wonderful, having something so utterly _reliable_ in his life.

His parents, those wonderful necessary things every child was born with, were almost the exact opposite of what parents were supposed to be. Father was in Azkaban on charges of conspiracy against the Ministry, and attempted murder. Mother was on the edge of sanity, teetering like a top with too little momentum left.

Both expected him to follow in their footsteps, blissfully ignoring the fact that their paths led to prison and mental breakdown. It was not comforting to recognize that Blaise and Pansy were in the same boat, for how can one drowning man, save another?

And here he was, presented with this life raft, a Familiar. Something he could count on, something constant…

If Draco Malfoy had been one who believed in gods, he would have got down on his knees in utterly thankful prayer that Regina had come into his life.

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###  7\. Eyes Full of 'Mad'

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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Smoke made a foggy night seem even grayer, but Spike wouldn't give up his cigs for the world and all the little Happy Meals in it.

They were, to his mind, a multi-purpose tool. They kept his hands steady in tricky situations, gave him something to do when he was bored, and constituted a filthy near-evil habit that the bloody chip wouldn't object to.

If the blonde vampire had been in a more open, honest frame of mind, he would have had to admit that the cylinders of chemical death were his personal security blanket. As such an admission would lead to his immediate quitting, it was lucky for all concerned that Spike had been a resident of Denial for nigh on a century.

Currently the cig in his mouth was being smoked for use number one.

Dawn was missing, had been gone for near two months now, and the bloody Watcher had only _just_ told him. His little bit was somewhere all alone, in bloody England of all places, and he was unable to go and find her. He was 'needed to fight the forces of evil on the Hellmouth.'

Needed his pasty white _arse_. What Giles needed him for nowhere _near_ resembled fighting. It was glorified babysitting, that's what it was. Watching baby Buffy and wiping her bloody baby mouth when she spit up.

Or, as was more likely in her case, screwing up.

Crawling out of her grave had not been a beneficiary service to the already rather unhinged Slayer. All the trauma of Glory and the Key, followed up with a quick little jaunt to heaven, and then being brought smack down to earth? Not such a good joyride for the blonde.

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place with her. The rock being his love for her, pre-death. Watching this wreck that used to be Buffy walk around, using those beautiful hazel eyes to look at the world with so much anger and disdain, _that_ was the bleedin' hard place.

His demon was snapping at him, teeth-grinding, tongue-twisting bouts of rage. THEIR Dawn was in trouble, and he couldn't go help her. Sure, the Watcher and Wiccas One and Two were looking, but even before the Black-Magic fiasco Red couldn't find her _nose_ with magic if it was right…

Well, and that was the problem, wasn't it? If the platelet was smart, and really didn't want to be found, she'd skedaddle, wouldn't she? His girl was smart, and angry.

Gods, her anger had been the only thing his demon could stand, those last few days. Between his love for the Slayer and the beatings from Glory it had been all he could do not to snap and vamp-out and bite everyone those last few days and hours before the big bangin' battle. Headache be damned.

There she'd been, those big blue eyes gone from empty and sad to bright and sparkly with mad. His demon had eaten it up, started to whisper about Childer and chips, Childer and chips, plantin' thoughts about the future.

And then big sister had jumped and those eyes had gone from full to empty in less than sixty seconds. A right blessing that summer'd been, too. Gave him the opportunity to pull back on the demon, stamp down those nibbly thoughts, and let him grieve a little in his own tears-of-blood way.

Perspective, that's what they called it, when your life changed so much that you looked back and it was a stranger's world you saw.

He'd gotten perspective in spades and loads, tied with little bloody ribbons. Buffy was gone, and Dawn was his to _protect_. Which meant no biting, no bad thoughts and no turning. Limited his options somethin' awful that request did. So Dawn became the little sis, and Buffy became the great love, had to keep things even. An even keel so as not to sink.

But he'd drowned, drowned and died a second time when the blonde had walked back into his life; like a cheap horror flick crossed with a tragic romance. Casablanca and Night of the Living Dead, that was what his bloody life was. All mish-mashed and hung out to dry. Dru would've gotten a great kick out of it. Maybe somewhere, somehow, she WAS laughing at him. Her little stars whispering to her about sticky Slayers and great big balls of green light with the loveliest little angry eyes…

And Dawn was missing, gone and away, and he could do nothing here on the Hellmouth. His life was a great bloody joke, but nobody was laughing, not even him.

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###  8\. The Boy In Question

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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Feline physiology was very different from human. For one thing there were the legs: two extras, with paws and claws. The claws alone had taken Dawn almost an entire afternoon to figure out.

Her new body twisted and moved so differently from her old human one. It was quite a change going from tripping over air to landing on her feet each time she fell, an uncommon occurrence now. She was graceful, every motion seemed to flow into the next like poetry.

She loved it.

Being unable to speak was definitely a down-side, but the mental link with Draco made up for it. She could send emotions, pictures, sometimes even single words through their little connection - and let's not forget the importance of _body language_ , after all: what did the five fingers say to the face?

And cats could be surprisingly vocal for all their lack of speech. She purred, mewled, yowled, meowed, hissed, caterwauled, snarled, and huffed to get her point across to her Wizard.

Her Wizard. It was strange, having someone completely to herself. They shared a link that went beyond any relationship she'd ever had in the past, monk-implanted or otherwise. He reminded her of Spike sometimes, but that was mostly a superficial comparison, the only thing they really shared was hair color. But while Spike's may have been out of a bottle, her Wizard's was all natural.

Draco was a bookaholic, but his reading always had a purpose. Dawn had not found a single recreational text in all her wandering through the library. Everything was research and learning, he seemed to have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

Currently most of his research was focused on Familiars, but he was becoming increasingly frustrated with the lack of texts on the subject in his home.

This frustration allowed Dawn a further glimpse into the workings of her Wizard's mind. His anger didn't turn him into a broody mess, like Buffy's did; nor did it make him babble and whine, like Willow's did. No, his anger was a tool, one he honed and sharpened and put away to save for another time. He was vastly more controlled in his emotions than anyone Dawn had ever seen.

She wondered, idly from time to time, what she would have thought of him if she had met him without this instant rapport that they had. Doubtless he would have disregarded her: Draco had no use for Muggles, they were fleeting and useless, not a part of his world. He regarded them with the same pitying condescension that many people displayed towards the disabled.

And she, she would've taken one look at that stone-mask he wore in public and decided here was yet another elitist snob. A pretty-boy jock, when really he was so much more than that. Behind those pale eyes roared a fire that might someday consume the world.

Or at the least, set it ablaze…

Oh yes, Dawn blessed the runes that had started this journey. She admitted that she missed her family, but only for brief and fleeting moments. They had not found her nor had there been any sign of them, forcing Dawn to wonder just how hard they were really looking?

A soft warmth grew in the kneazle-girl's chest as she thought of what Draco would do if she went missing. He would tear the world apart until he found her.

That was why she loved him: he was brother, friend, and family to her. She could no more abandon him then Buffy could stop being the Slayer. He was a part of her, and she had no intention of ever, _ever_ letting him go.

Yes, Dawn smiled, curling her head just a little more into the tender hand that caressed her ears, for once the Fates had done her good.

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###  9\. Crookshanks does it again!

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦ **When Kneazle Meets Weasle(s)** ♦♦♦

She wanted OUT! Dawn had been scratching at the door to the train compartment for the last fifteen minutes. Monotony had decided to use her skull as a vacation spot and tedium was her new best friend.

Put simply: she was bored.

Draco was napping, apparently all the late-night research was finally catching up. He was stretched out along one seat, his long legs being used as an impromptu snack-table by Blaise and Pansy. The other seat was occupied by the oh-so-cuddly couple of the newly-introduced Crabbe and Goyle.

Everyone shown with the same sky blue so Dawn had no qualms about exploring. She had been itching to wander ever since boarding the train.

Magic School Bus? Eat your heart out! As far as Dawn was concerned, the Hogwarts Express kicked _major_ ass.

Giving up on the door, Dawn pounced on Blaise's feet and began to nip at his socks. Cotton was not her favorite flavor by a long shot, but if it would get his attention…

"Yowch! Blasted Kneazle, what's wrong with you?"

Dawn fixed her big blue eyes on him and attempted to pout, a difficult maneuver when one's face is covered in fur. Sauntering over to the door she reared back up on her hind legs and patted the handle, mewling insistently.

"Alright, bloody Kneazle, want to explore do you?" Gently lifting the blonde's legs to one side, Blaise slid from the seat and opened the door with a gallant bow, "As my lady commands!"

Pansy gave him an amused look, "Blaise, you're _flirting_ with a _Kneazle_!"

He shot her an amber-eyed glare, replying somewhat stiffly, "Manners never hurt a soul."

The former Key twined herself between his legs, attempting to convey her gratitude before scampering off down the hall. Now to find some mischief!

She'd been cooped up in Malfoy Manor for almost a month, and while Draco was excellent company, he was just one person. Blaise and Pansy, after reassuring themselves that their friend was _not_ dead, had visited only once more. They recognized the furor with which he was throwing himself into his research, something Blaise had once jokingly likened to the famously obsessive Oliver Wood.

Once Pansy and Narcissa had countered all the curses, Blaise refrained from making any such similar comparisons.

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The train was crowded with students walking, laughing, discussing their respective summers. Dawn ignored them all, feeling slightly foolish. In her desire for a bit of a romp, she had forgotten to take into account her Draco-dar, all the swirling colors of the many varied people were making her nauseous.

Eventually she found a seat underneath a small ledge from which to watch people. Most of the students had robes on of the same black student-issue that Draco seemed to wear every day. A few had more muggle-type clothing on: jeans, t-shirts and the like.

A demanding meow drew made the former-Key start in surprise, her eyes dilating and hair standing on end at the perceived threat. Turning, she hissed at the offending personage, an orange feline who looked like he'd had one too many fights.

He seemed amused and watched her carefully until she let her fur sink into it's natural position. Approaching slowly, he touched noses with her, and Dawn realized with a start that he was a Kneazle-cross. Most likely somewhere around half-Kneazle.

Giving an inviting mewl, he turned to go, looking back over his shoulder at her in a blatant invitation to join him. As she had nothing better to do, Dawn followed, curious.

The marmalade tom led her through the bustle of the corridor with surprising ease, Dawn realized somewhat resentfully that he was experienced with these sorts of crowds. He didn't seem bothered by the distracting auras leading the blue-eyed Kneazle to wonder exactly how he dealt with it all.

At last they seemed to reach their destination, a compartment about midway down the train. Far enough away that Draco's sleeping mind was merely a slight thrum in the back of her head, but close enough that she felt no discomfort. Apparently their 'range' had increased during her stay at the Manor, not that she had had much cause to test it.

The orange cat scratched at the door and meowed in an imperious manner, a slight scuffling could be heard from within the compartment before the door slid open. A tall girl with enormously bushy hair smiled down at the orange cat, scooping him up and knuckling his ears with affection.

_My, what big hair you have…_ Dawn thought, amused as she inspected the girl. Her aura was pretty, a mood-ring of shades ranging from green to yellow to mauve. Though the former Key was still a bit distracted, wondering what Buffy would have done with even half that much volume in her locks.

That was, if Buffy had still cared about her appearance, beyond the aspect of Slayage: cute, blonde and helpless attracted more newbie vamps than dirty, disheveled, and competent.

"Hullo Crookshanks, found a friend?" A pleasantly surprised smile was sent Dawn's way, and she responded with a soft meow.

'Crookshanks' the orange tom squirmed a bit until his owner set him down. He rubbed his shoulder against Dawn's and butted her side, nudging her gently towards the direction of the door.

She stepped inside cautiously, meeting new people was weird enough, but meeting them as a feline? That added a whole new aspect to 'first impression jitters.'

"Who's this then Hermione?" Came a loud, rather strident voice from the left. It belonged to a lanky red-headed boy. He inspected Dawn curiously before turning back to the brown-haired girl with a mildly incredulous expression, repeating the brunette girl's question with an added air of faint derision, "Crookshanks found a friend?"

A soft chuckle sounded from the opposite side of the car, and Dawn spun quickly to look over the third person. It was another tall boy, though admittedly _everyone_ was tall compared to her now. His hair was messily black and his green eyes sparkled with quiet mirth from behind wire-rimmed glasses.

"Remember the last time Crooks took a shine to someone?" He asked Hermione, stretching his hand down to offer Dawn a sniff. She instead inspected his aura, it swirled at an alarming rate, cycling from red to green to purple and back again rapidly.

The brunette girl's response had Dawn stiffening in surprised shock. They couldn't be - there was no way that they could -

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and sat down, chuckling too as if at some found memory, "Well I hardly think Crookshanks could have found us _another_ unregistered Animagus!"

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###  10\. True Colors

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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Dawn purred ferociously as Hermione scratched her ears. This was it, she officially adored cat people, they knew just where to scratch! Stretching out in that boneless feline almost-a-rug-but-not-quite manner, she bumped her head against the girl's wrist to encourage more stroking.

Frowning, Hermione lifted Dawn away from her lap to inspect the furry creature more carefully. Her eyes widened in shock, "Bloody hell!"

"Hermione!" Both boys raised their voices in a chorus of shock.

She flushed guiltily, "Sorry, sorry, it's just…" Her brown eyes were awe-filled as she resumed stroking Dawn's fur, "This cat isn't a cat at all, I'm pretty sure she's a _pure-bred kneazle_!"

Ron's pose instantly changed from relaxed and lazy to alert, "You're having me on!"

"What, what's the big deal? _You_ have a Kneazle-cross, Hermione," Harry said, confused.

"Yeah but Crookshanks is a mixed-breed... she's _pure-bred_ , she's a _true Familiar_!" Ron breathed, looking at the marmalade tom's newest friend with barely-concealed awe and a large dose of envy.

Hermione huffed exasperatedly, recognizing this as one of the many instances where Harry's non-magical upbringing combined with his lack of extracurricular reading material left him completely in the dark about Wizarding culture. She hefted Dawn up and turned the Kneazle so she was laying with her head pointed towards Harry.

"Remember your first-year Hogwarts letter? How the only familiars allowed are cats, toads, and owls?"

"Yeah," Harry frowned, "But Kneazle's are allowed, aren't they? You have Crookshanks."

"Yes, but he's only _part_ Kneazle, he's mostly cat. Magical creatures by definition CANNOT be regular familiars," Hermione had unconsciously taken on a 'teaching' pose. "The only magical creatures allowed in the school are those that are bonded as _true_ Familiars."

This time Harry heard the capital 'F' in Familiar, "What's the difference?"

"What's the difference, mate?" Ron burst out, "It's like comparing… oh I dunno, a House Elf to a garden gnome!"

Dawn meowed angrily, no way in heck she was going to take kindly to being compared to a House Elf! She was an independent Twentieth Century… um, Kneazle!

"True Familiars are like a combination of muggle soul mates and your every-day run-of-the-mill familiars. It's a psychic bond that commands absolute loyalty. Imagine if you had a telepathic connection to Hedwig. The REALLY powerful bonds can speak to each other mentally, like Dumbledore and Fawkes," Hermione explained.

"So, this Kneazle is telepathically bonded to one of our classmates?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Yeah, wonder who the lucky bastard is," Ron murmured.

"I don't know, she hasn't got a collar on," Hermione frowned, "I wonder why she's wandering around though... Anyways whoever it is must be REALLY powerful, Familiars rarely bond to weak Wizards, it's usually the best and brightest."

Dawn preened a little, really she was glad she'd followed Crookshanks. She had probably learned more about her situation from twenty minutes with this group than she had with a solid month spent in Draco's library.

Suddenly she started in surprise, her claws unsheathing themselves in Hermione's skirt. Draco was awake, and angry.

_VERY_ angry.

The trio's conversation continued around her as she felt Draco draw closer through their bond. He was moving slowly, reaching out to her frantically through their bond. She felt his worry and even a touch of fear for her safety. Wordlessly she sent reassurances back to him; honestly, she had claws and sharp fangs! Why was everyone in her life perpetually determined to coddle her?

She leapt down from Hermione's lap and twined around Harry's feet, scratching at an itch that had developed on the side of her hip. Her Wizard was only a few steps away, she felt him pause just outside the compartment.

The door slid open and instantly all three human occupants of the car were on their feet. Draco inspected them coolly, his face impassive. Dawn was shocked by the emotions she felt radiating from him.

Fear. Deep, intense terror for her safety, especially with these people.

_Uh-oh, I guess they're not on the best terms,_ Dawn realized.

"What do you want, Malfoy," Ron spat, aggression turning his aura a sickly yellow.

"Nothing from _you_ , Weasel," his cool silver eyes were blatantly dismissive as he flicked his gaze over each of the trio in turn, assessing the possibility of attack.

Dawn mewled and leapt for his shoulder, curling herself into her customary position and giving his ear one rough swipe with her tongue. Instantly she felt tension begin to go out of his shoulders as he gave the stunned group a small smile.

"I merely came to retrieve Regina, she has a troubling tendency to… wander into _unsavory_ places," with a short nod he snapped the door shut behind him and began to walk away - shoes tapping against the ground in a staccato pace that let the world know that he was angry.

The former-Key sent waves of apology and soothing reassurances that she was alright to him, but she could still feel him seething. He stopped in one of the restrooms and bolted the door.

" _Never_ do that again, Regina," he ordered, his eyes snapping with silver flames as he let his mask slip.

A quick shoulder-nuzzle was her only response.

He gripped the sides of the sink, white-knuckled, "You don't know who my enemies are, you don't know who I trust, _don't_ wander off. I can't lose you." Suddenly his demeanor changed, his face losing it's grim determination, becoming open and beseeching.

"I can't lose you, my Kneazle."

Bathing the side of his face roughly, Dawn vowed, _You never will._

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###  11\. The Malfoy of the Rising Sun

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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It took a further ten minutes for Draco to calm himself down enough to go back to their compartment. Dawn had never seen him so riled, she wondered at the animosity obvious between him and the three people she had met. They had seemed like perfectly nice individuals to _her_ , but on the other hand she had been a staunch defender of Spike even while the Scoobies were none-too-subtle in their general loathing of the vampire.

At last they headed down the corridor, now far less crowded than it had been previously. Draco wouldn't allow Dawn to walk, keeping one hand firmly on her back as if to keep her from leaping off or being taken away.

A dreamy question cause Draco to stop short, "Hmm, the Malfoy of the Rising Sun?" The query came from a short blonde with vague-looking blue eyes, she regarded them curiously as Draco turned to deal with this latest obstacle.

The former Key stared at the girl in fascination. She was pretty, but very strange. Radish earrings dangled from both ears, brushing the top of her collar with their tiny hair-like roots. But it was her aura that had the Kneazle thoroughly enchanted. She had never seen anything even remotely like it… Every imaginable color and shade was represented in the air about the teenager, swirling and twisting to create a dazzling image. Instead of being painful or blinding, the colors were soothing - something about them called to Dawn.

She twisted out from under Draco's hand and leapt for the ground. Twining around the girl's feet, she purred as the blonde's aura began to emit small tendrils of color that lightly stroked her fur.

"Regina!"

"Luna!"

Both names were uttered simultaneously with the same tone of exasperated warning. A redheaded girl suddenly joined them and fixed a fierce glare on Draco.

"Has he done anything to you, Luna?" The girl asked, her tone accusatory. Her curly hair seemed to bristle with indignation at the very _thought_ of anyone threatening her friend, her brown eyes were positively sparking with threat towards Draco.

Luna turned to face her friend, a look of detached surprise on her face, "Why no, Ginny! I was just introducing myself to his Whizzchime Cloud-Snuffler." She bent and favored Dawn's ears with a gentle caress, lifting the Kneazle into her arms. "Isn't she pretty?"

"Yes, why she's gorgeous. A little lioness, aren't you?" Ginny cooed, reaching out a hand for Dawn to sniff.

_Why does everyone_ do _that? I'm not a dog for Pete's sake,_ the former-Key wondered as she inspected the redhead's aura. It was soft and fluttery, pastel colors strikingly in contrast with the fierce image she presented.

"A lioness?" Draco snorted, "I think not."

Ginny glared at him, "Who asked you?"

"She's no lioness! I _told_ you Ginny, she's a Whizzchime _Cloud_ -Snuffler," Luna interrupted impatiently then frowned and inspected Dawn once more. "Hmm, she's got a bit of Mortedella Maxima thrown in as well," she added with a frown. Turning her penetrating gaze back to Draco, she inquired, "Where on earth did you find such an intriguing specimen?"

Startled, Draco answered her before he could think of something appropriately scathing: "Dora's."

Apparently satisfied with that, Luna returned her attention to the Kneazle currently purring in her arms. "You've been mourning in the morning, haven't you? And they've all gone to tea without you. No worries, they'll be back before dark," Luna murmured in a knowing tone, her eyes faintly glazed and her head tilted to the side. Suddenly she shook herself all over and smiled that same vague smile, Dawn shivered a little at the sight.

Feeling the growing impatience and frustration emanating from Draco, the feline mewled apologetically and leapt for his shoulder, careful not to hook in her claws as she landed. He immediately turned and set off, yet again, for their compartment.

"Nice meeting you! Watch out for Hedgetoads and Heffalumps!" Came the cheery voice of what was possibly the strangest and most intriguing person Dawn had ever encountered - tendency to speak in Dru-isms notwithstanding.

Draco did not respond, merely muttered something under his breath as they at last reached the door. He slid it open gently, then slammed it shut behind him, causing the occupants to jump in surprise.

"So, you found her, eh? I told you nothing bad would happen," Blaise said with forced cheer.

"She was with the _Golden Bloody Trio_!" Draco spat venomously, causing his friend to blanch.

"She looks alright to me, no missing fur, and she's not scratching at you." Pansy smirked, "Good to have another female who can resist that tortured-hero charm."

Draco looked at her incredulously, "You think he's _charming_?"

"He does have rather nice eyes," Crabbe interjected.

"An even better arse," Pansy winked conspiratorially.

"You better not be checking out that claim, Vin," Blaise joked, "I think Greg's seeing green!"

"Nice eyes for a Gryff!" Crabbe hastened to add, "As if I'd even THINK of it…" His words dissolved into more quiet whispers exchanged between him and his boyfriend.

All the banter had given Draco time to calm down a bit. From the measuring looks Blaise and Pansy were giving her Wizard, Dawn guessed that they had practice with dousing his temper.

He sighed and sat down, letting his head fall back against the wall of the car. A quiet chuckle escaped him, growing as the minutes passed until he was shaking with mirth.

"What's so funny, Drakie-Poo?"

"Yes, let us in on the joke, could use a laugh," Blaise added.

"You should… have seen… their faces!" The blonde choked out, "When I collected Regina, the Weasel looked like he was about to swallow his own tongue!"

"Of course he did," Pansy said scathingly, "I'll give you three-to-one odds Granger recognized Regina as someone's true Familiar. She may be a right bint, but she's sharp."

"Why Pans, dost my ears deceive me, or did you just compliment a Gryff?" Blaise asked innocently, batting his eyelashes as he continued, "Might my favorite she-snake have a wee little crush?"

"Your ears are working fine, Zabini, it's your other parts you should be worrying about if you don't take that back!"

Dawn ignored the quiet tiff that was rapidly escalating into a full-on scuffle, curled contentedly on her Wizard's shoulder. She'd had enough adventure and revelation for one day, it was time for a quick cat nap. The squabbling noise was a soothing background as she let herself relax into a feline puddle.

She would think about the day's happenings later, when she wasn't…so very… sleepy…

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###  12\. Heart's Blood Nail-Polish and Psychosis

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦ **SEVERUS = PIE!** ♦♦♦

Random association.

It had been the cause of many a Summers woman's downfall, and was the root, if not of all evil, then at least of all the so-called 'witticisms' Buffy spewed when Slaying. Something in the combination of battle-hormones and minion's general stupidity brought out the worst of the blonde's so-called wit. It was one of the many character-traits the former-Key feared that she might have inherited from the piece of her that was also Buffy's.

_Oh. My. God,_ Dawn thought as the part of her that enjoyed cemeteries and nice low-fat yogurts as a post-slayage snack began doing a squealing-happy dance at finding yet another Broodmeister, _He's like Angel… without the hair-gel!_

Studying the man before her she quickly reevaluated that opinion, he was more like Angelus… if you crossed Angie with a pie. Angelus had been insane, not in the see-the-stars-oh-how-they-sing way that Drusilla was, more of an I'm-gonna-paint-your-toenails-with-your-heart's-blood kind of psychosis. The man before her didn't inspire immediate terror the way Angelus had, he didn't have that aura of death.

In fact, this man's aura was beautiful, a sparkling crescendo of blues and greens, dashes of red adding color and depth.

Yep, definitely a sweetiepie.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

The fact that Regina was napping rather soundly alleviated Draco's fears about taking her to the Sorting. She would be able to sleep peacefully in his dorm room until the Feast was over. Distance had become less of an issue the more time they spent together, the strength of their bond negated any worries of space.

The soothing calm of Regina's slumbering mind made it easier for the blonde to clap and cheer when only four First Years were Sorted into Slytherin, whereas Gryffindor received almost fifteen. While the trend was disturbing, it was not unexpected. In darker times parents would warn their children even more heavily against the Dark Arts, causing those who had been neutral enough to be Slytherin to reject their wily bent and adopt other, more palatable ways.

It was better by far for Regina to stay in his rooms for this event. Who knew what sort of trouble she'd get into? Less than four hours back in the Hogwarts atmosphere an she had managed to find the Golden Bloody Trio! With his luck combined with her penchant for mischief she probably would have crawled into Dumbledore's lap!

No, best that she stay in the Slytherin wing. He would not take her to his classes, she was too precious to be lost due to some idiot Hufflepuff's mistake with a Leviosa. By the time Dumbledore offered a few closing words ( _Teal'c, Rodere, Methos!_ ), Draco was more than ready to be reunited with his Familiar.

After all, he would be leaving her to her own devices for much of the week.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Dawn woke and stretched, her eyes opening slowly. She must have slept like a rock! Her Wizard was sprawled out upon the bed that she was lying at the foot of, face relaxed in sleep. He looked like a fallen angel when he slept, innocent and worldly at the same time.

_When will these guys find a way to make some sort of digital clock?_ Dawn thought irritably as she kneaded the silk bedding underneath her. It was still dark out, but she felt as if she'd slept for ages…

Suddenly realizing why she felt so closed in, Dawn would have smacked herself if she'd had hands. _Stupid canopy bed,_ she grumbled, batting at the dark velvet irritably, she wasn't going to jump - she had no way of knowing how high she was off the ground.

Stuck and frustrated, she let out an angry meow.

A sleepy voice answered her from somewhere beyond the cloth, "Dost my lady call me?"

Rolling her eyes, after all it wasn't like anyone was awake to notice, she meowed again, this time more insistently.

There was a faint rustling and then the curtains midway down the bed opened to reveal a rumpled-looking Blaise. He smiled sleepily at the Kneazle, yawning as he beckoned to her with one hand, "May as well come out, milady. He'll be asleep for ages yet."

Dawn stayed where she was, blue eyes wide. She might still be sleepy, but she was nowhere near drowsy enough to be unable to appreciate the sight of a bed-rumpled _shirtless_ Blaise Zabini.

If she'd been human, she would have drooled, or giggled, or twirled her long hair, or babbled - Dawn gave herself a mental smack, she _was_ babbling! Mental babble was almost worse than verbal, especially when she got that glazed look and her jaw gaped open... With an all-too-human jerk of her head to clear her thoughts, Dawn leapt for Blaise's chest, causing him to give a soft, "Oof!"

He smiled down at the purring bundle he had wrapped in his arms, "Want breakfast?"

A sudden, quite definitely _affirmitive_ increase in the rumbling vibrations made him laugh as he went to summon a House Elf.

Setting Dawn up with a meal of Catbites, the Kneazle Food for the Young Familiar! Blaise went off to the baths to make himself 'presentable.'

Privately Dawn thought that if was any more 'presentable' he wouldn't be able to walk down a street without being propositioned.

She finished her surprisingly tasty meal with a sigh and began giving herself a tongue bath. It had been hard to do the first few times, but the instinctual desire to be _clean_ had her sucking it up and learning how to do it. Her fur was odd-tasting, not at all salty like human skin was, it had a strange earthy flavor to it. Overall not so bad.

Luckily for her, hairballs were no longer a worry, a simple potion from Draco had made her a non-shedding kitty. Yet one more reason to adore her Wizard, hairballs were… eugh! There weren't enough derogatory words in the English, French, Sumerian, Latin, heck, in _any_ language to describe her loathing for the little things!

Besides what was her alternative? It wasn't as if she could jump into a shower whenever she wanted to. That line of thinking led her to frown, or come as close to frowning as Kneazles could get. She didn't think Wizards had showers, they seemed to have jumped off the technology train as soon as electricity was invented. Did Wizards still just take baths?

She derailed that train of thought almost as soon as she boarded it. Naughty thoughts of certain boys bathing would do her no good, at least, not in her current form…

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  13\. Ministry Digests and Mashed Potatoes

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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Once he had dressed and judged himself presentable, though Dawn thought _lickable_ would be a better adjective, Blaise carried the Kneazle out to the Slytherin Common Room.

It was opulent and strange: heavy curtains and tapestries depicted famous Slytherins doing what they were best known for. There were witches brewing potions, warlocks writing spells, and a whole host of past lives being acted out on the colorful cloth. Few students occupied the room, those that were there sat on the plush leather chairs or sprawled across the couches that dotted the area in front of the fireplace.

Pansy was one such person. She lay on her stomach, idly flipping through yet another magazine. Glancing up, she smirked, "Still sleeping?"

Blaise sank down onto the chair opposite her couch with a sigh, plopping Dawn into his lap. "Of course, why would he do little things like _rest_ when he has a project to work on?"

They shared a look of mutual disapproval before Pansy turned her attention to Dawn, "Trying to subvert the Kneazle, Blaise? Draco won't appreciate the theft."

Insulted, Dawn leapt down from Blaise's lap to Pansy's back and swatted at her hair. She kept her claws sheathed, but her paws were rather larger than the average Kneazle's, denoting a possible future growth spurt. Pansy yelped as she sat up, trying to detangle the feline from her dark locks.

Amber eyes glinting in amusement, Blaise chuckled, "I don't think she took too kindly to your teasing, Pans. S'alright, milady," he said, switching his focus to the Familiar, "She doesn't mean any harm, Pansy's bark is much worse than her bite."

"Ah, but my bite is poisonous," Pansy grinned, clicking her teeth at him in a pantomime nip. She picked up the sulking Kneazle and stroked her ears in apology. With the feline in her lap, she flipped her magazine so she could hold it one-handed and continued to read as she petted her.

Dawn was soon engrossed in a fascinating article on a new Vampire Registration Act in Poland and Pansy's attempts to turn the page before she was done were most definitely _not_ appreciated. She batted at the girl's hand and mewled her annoyance, fixing the dark-eyed girl with a pointed glare.

The Slytherin teen looked down at her in surprise before flashing a bemused smile at Blaise, "I guess she wasn't done yet."

Dawn mewled her agreement distractedly as she finished the article, reaching out with her paw, she turned the page and continued to peruse the magazine. The two Slytherins watched her progress with considering looks on their faces, this new development was interesting… and odd. Just how smart were Kneazles supposed to be?

"And what are you doing, exactly?" Drawled a slightly annoyed voice from behind Pansy's couch.

Blaise smiled brightly, "We're watching your Familiar read Pansy's Ministry Digest."

The tall blonde rounded the sofa and sank into the buttery-soft green leather, stretching his legs out to the max. He frowned abruptly as the other boy's words sunk in, "Watching Regina _read_?"

"Why yes, doesn't everybody?" Pansy asked sarcastically, a little annoyed that her Digest had been commandeered by a Kneazle.

Draco sent a small inquiry to his Familiar, adopting the same bemused expression as his friends when all he received from her was a sense of total engrossment. The three Slytherins continued watching the Kneazle until she finished the magazine and looked up at them. Even as a feline her facial expression needed no translation:

_What?_

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

The three Slytherins lounged about the Common Room until it was time for lunch. Somewhat averse to the idea of facing 'all those bloody stairs on a Saturday' as Blaise so charmingly put it, they decided to order in.

The House Elves were always happy to serve the members of Slytherin House, most of them had relatives working for the older pureblood families. Few purebloods treated their elves as poorly as Lucius Malfoy did Dobby, House Elves were valuable servants, the oldest considered almost a part of the family.

A few minutes later all three were sitting on the floor, a veritable feast spread before them. Everything the Elves had intended to serve for lunch without the disadvantage of having to leave the Common Room.

Dawn licked her lips, they had mashed potatoes! She _loved_ mashed potatoes! She crawled over Draco's leg and into his lap, purring mightily as he served himself.

He smiled down at her, "Want some chicken?"

She sent him a mental picture of potatoes and butter, causing him to frown.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief, "You'd rather have potatoes than chicken?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

Soon she was lapping at a small plate of the creamy white stuff while the other three looked on in mild amusement.

Pansy was the first to speak what they were all thinking: "She's a rather… odd Kneazle, isn't she?"

"Most definitely," Blaise agreed, giving Regina small amount of butter. She thanked him for his trouble with a rumbling purr, sounding more like a small lion than like a domesticated animal.

Draco frowned, considering, "I'll have to do some more research - "

A chorus of disapproval met his proclamation: twin groans and a growl.

"Pardon me for being thorough," Draco muttered, aggravated.

"Speaking of thorough, when will Professor Snape be coming by with our schedules?" Blaise inquired.

Draco fixed him with a small glare, "What do schedules have to do with thoroughness and research?"

The other boy smiled beatifically, "Absolutely nothing!"

Pansy considered that, a thoughtful look on her face, "Technically, schedules promote thoroughness, so _nothing_ isn't really a comprehensive answer. And to be truly _thorough_ with many of our assignments we have to go to the library so…"

Blaise whipped a pillow over his face, muffling his dramatic next words, "Spare me! Let me wallow in my ignorance, do not attempt to help me mend my ways!"

"One doubts that the most painstaking of explanations could mend your ways," a silky voice declared.

The three Slytherins scrambled to their feet, making Regina look up… into the face of one Severus Snape, Potions Master, and Head of Slytherin House.

And just like Murphy's Law, the Random Association Effect kicked in.

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###  14\. Dark Athames and Giggling Kneazles

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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She had no sooner laid eyes on him than she was across the small distance between and rubbing her side against the hem of his robes. She purred thunderously, looking up at him with entreating blue eyes. He could not help but pick her up.

Their eyes locked and Dawn felt as if she was staring into an abandoned well. Deep and dark, with a sense of the unknown and the lingering feeling that there were things hidden within that it was not her business to uncover. On a whim she leaned forward and nuzzled at his collar with her cheek, mewling quietly.

Draco shifted nervously, he felt guilty about not telling his godfather about his Familiar, this was the kind of thing that was meant to be shared with those one trusted. But to be honest it had slipped his mind entirely. So caught up was he with her and learning as much as he could about their particular bond that he forgot to inform those nearest and dearest to him.

"Professor, meet Regina, she's my Familiar."

Severus's attention shifted to Draco and he raised an eyebrow, "A _true_ Familiar?"

"Yes, sir."

His dark gaze flicked back to the Kneazle who looked up at him with guileless blue eyes. He frowned, "She has no stripes."

"Yes she does," Draco hastened to reassure him, "Not all over, just on her belly, here." He took Regina from the Professor and gently flipped her onto her back, cradling her like an infant, and pointed out the two diagonal slashes on her stomach.

Snape's eyes widened perceptibly, "Those are most definitely _not_ stripes. Those are the remnants of a Dark Magic attack." He surveyed Regina thoughtfully, "Your Familiar appears to have a past."

"A Dark Magic attack? Can you tell what kind? That is to say, if it was a spell or something else…" Pansy trailed off hopefully.

Wordlessly Draco passed Regina to his godfather. Dawn whimpered slightly at her Wizard's distress and wriggled, trying to get back to Draco. After a minute or so of struggling she subsided, with a last annoyed meow aimed at the man holding her.

Severus held the feline gingerly, ignoring for the moment her slightly accusatory stare. Her expression as good as said, 'It's _your_ fault my Wizard is upset, either fix it or let _me_ do so!' She shuddered, squirming a little as he ran his finger over the white fur, making him frown in concentration. He slipped his wand out of his sleeve and traced the markings with it, causing the fur to change from white to a very dull red.

"These marks were made with a sacrificial blade, a dark athame," he explained. "I do not know how she could have survived such a wound, most are charmed to prevent coagulation of the blood."

Dawn made another bid for escape at the fear and sadness roiling down the bond, she didn't want to resort to the use of fang and claw, but if this went on much longer -

Severus loosened his grip and watched as the Kneazle fairly flew from his grasp, landing lightly on her Wizard's shoulder and curling protectively about his neck. She rumbled soothingly, licking the side of his face.

Draco shuddered suddenly, then turned to face the Professor, his eyes full of dark intent, "Is there any way of knowing who exactly did the sacrificing?"

"None that I know of," the former Death Eater informed him seriously, "You may have to wait until you can question the only witness you have," he gestured to indicate the Kneazle still wrapped around the boy like a living scarf.

Anger turned Draco's gray eyes a stormy color like lingering thunderheads, a Kneazle sacrifice? He snorted quietly, there were dozens of wizards and witches, his father among them, who would do anything, hurt anyone on their quest for power. No one he cared about had ever been a victim though, he found the knowledge of Regina's former experiences disturbing. Though whether the disquiet came more from the knowledge that she had been wronged, or his lack of an ability to act on said information, was anybody's guess.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

It took Dawn almost an hour to calm Draco down, and though his emotions were soothed, his shoulders remained tense. Even the vibrations of her purring couldn't ease his muscles.

Pansy, Blaise, and her Wizard were sprawled across Draco's bedspread. They had abandoned the Common Room as it became crowded with First Years.

"Wonder what the Scar-gang will do this year?"

"Care to make it interesting?" Pansy asked the amber-eyed boy who was currently using her stomach as a pillow.

He sat up, propping himself on one elbow, " _How_ interesting?"

"Ten Galleons says Potter faces the Dark Lord - "

"That's a sucker bet," Draco interrupted, Blaise nodding in agreement.

Pansy favored him with a dark glare, " _As_ I was saying, Potter faces the Dark Lord and - "

Crabbe and Goyle burst in, apparently laughing at something that had just been said… or at least, they _were_ laughing. One well-aimed cast later -

"PETRFICUS TOTALUS!"

... and they were lying on the floor, bound and silent. They wriggled furiously, and Goyle's muffled mutterings could _not_ have been complementary.

The dark-haired girl flopped back down on the bed, arm thrown across her eyes. "I _hate_ being interrupted," she muttered darkly.

An amused Draco responded, "Yes, Pans, we can see that, but would you mind taking the body-bind off my roommates?"

She sent him a pleading look, "Do I have too?"

" _You_ won't have to live with the whining if one of them gets all stiff."

She adopted a thoughtful look before pointing out helpfully, "Draco darling, they're a couple… sleeping in the same room?" A wicked grin crossed her face, "Even odds they're always a bit… stiff."

A soft huffing noise drew their attention to Regina who had her mouth open and was doing a credible imitation of a laugh. She unwound herself from Draco's neck and padded over to Pansy, giving her cheek a gentle lick. The huffing noise came back doubled when she caught a glimpse of the two boys on the ground.

Pansy smirked, "At least the Kneazle appreciates my humor."

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  15\. Wake-Up Calls and R-E-S-P-E-C-T!

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

It was dark and strange sleeping in the dormitory. The sounds of several bodies breathing and snoring was barely muffled by the canopies to Dawn's Kneazle ears. Last night she'd been dead on her paws, but currently she was well rested and dealing with one of the true terrors of modern man.

Insomnia.

Dawn sighed and stood, circling and kneading the coverlet beneath her with her claws, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. The bed was as soft as a cloud. Unsurprising, as it was no doubt stuffed with the downy fluff of some magical bird. Trouble was her sleeplessness stemmed from mental discomfort, not physical.

She missed home.

Oh, not the pile of wood and cement that had been her house, and _definitely_ not the creepy moonlit streets of Sunnydale. What she was missed was far less tangible than that.

She missed the smell of her house: the combined scents of Buffy, Willow, Tara, and herself. She missed the hugs, granted they had become fewer and fewer over those last few months leading up to the Dark Magic break down, but she still longed for them all the same. She missed her sister, not the half-dead thing that had crawled out of the ground, but the sparkly, bratty, bossy one who'd been so full of life and emotion. She missed Giles and his stuttering whenever she or one of the Scoobies said something shocking or 'too American.' She missed Spike and the smoky-leathery-smell that clung to him like his trench-coat.

Kneazles couldn’t cry, her body made no tears for her to shed. Instead her claw flexed, catching the silky fabric under her: in, out, in, out, in, out… Her breath came in short, sharp pants and she blinked furiously. Her human reactions overriding the Kneazle ones, the ones that told her to throw back her head and yowl her sadness for all to hear.

She took a deep breath, then another, a third, until she was calm again. Dawn wouldn't yowl, wouldn't howl, wouldn't wake her Wizard. At least one of them should be rested.

Fluffing her fur on end, then licking it smooth occupied her for a few minutes, but the night stretched ever onward.

Draco mumbled something in his sleep and turned, shifting the blankets with him. Dawn crawled up to his pillow and settled herself next to his ear to listen to the even sounds of his breathing.

A few minutes later all was silent and still as sleep reigned supreme in Slytherin House.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Morning, even the first morning of the new year, was a languid time for Slytherins. Like their Ravenclaw counterparts, most woke far earlier than those in the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Houses. They understood the value of an early start, being rushed as one begins the day is not a good way to start the academic year.

Dawn was rudely awakened at what she thought was a rather ungodly hour - despite the lack of digital proof to back her up - by the saccharine-sweet sound of Pansy's voice:

"Rise and shine, sleepy boys!"

Muffled moans greeted her wake-up call, if they responded at all.

The former Key slipped down the side of the bed to swipe at Pansy's feet. The girl jumped and glared at the feline. Of course, Dawn glared right back.

"Sorry for disturbing your sleep Reg, but it's just as well," the Slytherin girl pulled out her wand with a flourish and winked down at the Kneazle who was watching her with curious eyes.

A dark-skinned hand snapped out and snatched the wood before the girl could so much as blink. "Ah ah ah, Pans," Blaise waved he wand in her face, "You pulled the same trick last year, what makes you think we'd fall for it again?"

"Well, there's the fact that I've given you the same wake-up call since First Year… and this is the first time one of you has tried to stop me," she grinned.

"Tried?"

She wriggled her wrist a little and a second wand slipped down, "AGUAMENTI!"

A jet of water shot from the wand and drenched him, leaving Blaise spluttering and wiping water from his eyes. When at last he could see again, he shot Pansy an appreciative smile, "Gee, thanks Pans, now I don't have to shower!"

"Always here to help!"

"Where'd you get the second wand?" He inquired idly, taking the towel she conjured for him with a nod of appreciation as he began to mop himself up.

Naked-chest Blaise was nice, but _wet_ -naked-chest Blaise was even better, Dawn realized as the teen continued to dry himself off. If she'd had human lips, and a little more of Buffy's confidence with the opposite sex, she would have wolf-whistled.

Pansy twirled the long, smooth wood between her fingers, smirking, "It's yours."

"What?" he called after her, surprised, as she began to head for the door.

"Well, I've pulled the same prank on you since First Year, give me _some_ credit for having a little insurance!" She tossed the wand back to him and was gone out of sight before he could catch it.

"Creative little bint, isn't she?" Blaise rolled his eyes and stuck his wand behind his ear, "But she left the job half-done." He whipped Draco's curtains open with a flourish, "Wakey wakey, Drakey."

No response.

"Oh Draaa-keeey," the amber-eyed boy leaned down until his lips were barely an inch from the blonde's ear. "Millicent's headed up, Pansy told her that you the Sleeping Dragon can't wake without a kiss, and it's _her_ turn."

"That's not bloody funny," Draco griped, sitting up at last. "That girl's a bloody _menace_ she is, almost broke my toe at the ball in Fourth Year."

Blaise nodded with false sympathy, patting the blonde's shoulder, "We know, Draco… because you've _told_ us at least _three thousand times_!"

"Well it was traumatizing!"

Soft huffing drew the boy's attention to the floor, where Dawn was laughing again.

Draco frowned at the amusement he felt through their bond, "No respect, I get no respect…"

_R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me!_ Dawn yodeled in her head before collapsing into giggles. The boys looked on wide-eyed as the Kneazle began rolling on the floor in a paroxysm of laughter.

"Is she alright?" Blaise asked tentatively, a touch of worry clouding his eyes.

Draco snorted, "Course she's alright, she's bloody laughing at me."

The other boy smirked, "You're right, you get no respect!"

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  16\. Mr. Prissy Being Pissy

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦ **ONE WEEK LATER** ♦♦♦

Blaise cast a worried look towards his pale, and getting paler, friend. Draco had been growing increasingly out-of-sorts over the past week. He was snappish, growling at anyone who so much as glanced his way. He'd lost Slytherin House 15 points and gained three detentions all in the first week of classes!

Of course, it didn't help that his Familiar appeared to be suffering from some form of feline PMS. If Draco could be described as 'crabby' Regina was even more so. Scratching people, yowling at night, and the last nip she'd given Draco could not in any way be described as 'affectionate.'

"Bread, Draco?" Pansy asked solicitously, a sour look crossing her face when the blonde looked away. She absolutely hated curbing her tongue, but nobody was willing to provoke Drake when he was in one of his moods.

"No," he said shortly, eyes darting about the room.

Blaise adopted a coaxing tone, "C'mon, you have to eat _something_ , as Captain of the Quidditch team, our House needs you in top form!"

His gray eyes flashed anger along with his snarling response, "I don't bloody well care about Quidditch!"

Pansy's wide-eyed gaze locked with Blaise's as the Slytherin Prince stormed from the room.

"This is serious," the brunette murmured solemnly.

The amber-eyed boy was frowning as he followed the blonde's progress from the Hall. He winced sharply when Draco knocked a First Year Hufflepuff down, "Yeah, without Draco's leadership we might lose the Quidditch Cup."

He jumped as a pea hit him between the eyes, "Ouch, what was that for?"

Another pea, this one cleverly catching the unbuttoned top of Blaise's shirt, was her only response.

"Alright, _yes_ , this is serious Pans, but what do you want me to do?" He asked crossly, Draco was not the only one suffering from Regina's anger. Dark circles had grown under the male Sixth Year's eyes until each looked like rather angry raccoons.

"Drug him, beat him, give him a Pepper-Up potion, or better yet: shove him off the top of the Astronomy Tower! I don't care," Pansy lied as she stood up, "But do _something_! If I have to deal with one more day of Mr. Prissy being pissy, I'm going to go stark raving _mad_!"

Intelligently waiting until the volatile female was out of hearing range, Blaise confided in his toast, "Think it's a little late for that, Pans. And while I'm on the subject…." Amber eyes widened in horror before skull met table with a loud THUMP.

"Good god, Priss Pissiness is catching…"

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Dawn prowled around the edge of the dorm room, her lashing tail the only outward sign of her anger. The inward sign of her growing rage was a constant stream of invective-laced thoughts being sent to the care of one Mr. Draco Malfoy.

While he couldn't yet understand her actual words - something Dawn had occasion to be grateful for once in a while: Blaise appeared to have something against the school uniform, which led to much shirtlessness - her tone was patently obvious. And just in case he didn't get her little mental message, she'd discovered that four claws and a ferocious midnight serenade were wonderful tools for communicating righteous indignation.

She was so BORED! One week with nothing for company but a pile of old socks and the House Elves who came to pick them up for cleaning. If she didn't get out of this room soon she was going to start bouncing off the walls.

The worst of it was that he was pulling a Buffy! Trying to _protect_ her, just the thought of that made her lips curl back to reveal shiny-sharp teeth in a menacing snarl.

_Stupid over-bearing wizards with more hairs than brain cells…_ her tirade went on for a few more minutes before she acknowledged the tell-tale feel of Draco's proximity.

He felt well and truly pissed.

_Well,_ good _,_ Dawn thought, _He can join the friggin' club!_

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

In cases where extreme emotion was involved, Draco was beginning to realize that two heads were most definitely not better than one. The closer to his Familiar he came, the more his anger grew until he felt like one boiling cauldron of rage. Their emotions combined and fed each other until he felt almost like killing someone.

He slammed the dormitory door open so hard that it rebounded, forcing him to catch it with a soft 'oof' on it's return journey.

"WHAT is your bloody problem?"

Regina was across the room in a flash, climbing his robes and hooking her claws in every step of the way. She drew level with his now impassive face and locked eyes with him.

Blue met gray in a furious battle, Dawn shoved her perspective at him. Aided by their proximity and the blood that now decorated her claws, she succeeded.

She took him through the endless monotony of a week trapped in one room.

She depicted the anger she felt at having to rely on his good graces to see the outside.

She slammed her anger, loneliness, and sadness at his lack of trust into his very soul.

Draco sank down to the ground slowly, cradling his Familiar against his chest. He buried his face in her soft fur and sent his reply.

His fear of losing her, whether it be to accident or malice.

His worry: after all, she'd gotten somewhat chummy with the three people he considered to be his worst enemies in only half an hour without supervision.

Last but not least, he reluctantly showed her his jealousy. She was _his_. His Familiar alone, and he did not want to share her.

Dawn began to bathe his face gently, soothing the fears he had shared, and a few that even the darkest corner of his psyche refused to acknowledge. Her tongue cleaned the last of his anger from his face, leaving him empty and open looking.

He smiled a soft smile, "What am I to do with you? I can't exactly take you to all of my classes, I doubt the Professors would allow it…"

A rather accurate mental-picture of Snape floated through his head, Dawn's contribution to this little brainstorm.

Gray eyes considering, Draco cocked his head to the side in an unconscious thinking pose and pulling at his forelock, "Maybe… that's not a bad idea, actually." He leapt to his feet, careful to cushion his Familiar from possible whiplash.

A bare five minutes later, Draco rapped his knuckles against the door to his Head of House's office. The door slid open smoothly on it's own, the closest the recalcitrant Professor would come to issuing an invitation.

"Sir?" Draco called, unsure if his Godfather would be at his desk or working in his more elaborate lab.

"Here, Draco, what is it?" Outside of class, Snape was free to adopt a more familiar tone with his godson and the blonde's closer friends.

Dawn let out a small mewl of glee at the site of Mr. Broodypants at his desk, he looked positively _peeved_! She leapt from Draco's arms and onto the edge of the desk in two swift bounds.

Mewling softly she carefully crossed his desk, settling beside him so she could look over his shoulder at the papers he was grading with so much disdain.

The two men watched the Kneazle's antics with bemusement.

"She likes you," Draco smirked.

Snape shot him an irritated look, "She likes _you_ as well, no accounting for taste."

Dawn hissed at this insult, causing Draco to laugh. Snape lifted a brow at the carefree sound, he'd never seen his godson so… dare he say, happy?

"Actually, sir, I have a favor to ask you," the blonde admitted, taking a seat in the chair opposite the darker man's.

"Oh?"

"Yes," Draco continued on determinedly, "This last week has been absolute hell. I cannot leave my Familiar in the dormitories one more day-"

"You've been leaving a powerful magical creature locked up for an entire _week_?" Snape asked incredulously, before continuing with some amusement, "How much of Hogwarts property has she destroyed?"

"Two pillows, three comforters, and one pair of Crabbe's boots," Draco admitted, somewhat sheepishly. "But I can't take her to classes, and she seems to… appreciate your company, so…"

Dawn rubbed her side along Snape's arm, purring ferociously, he patted her back absently, making her rumbling efforts redouble.

"I was wondering if she could stay in your classroom during the day."

Snape's eyes widened imperceptibly, "You jest."

"No," Draco replied, "It's the perfect solution: she won't get bored, and maybe she can… watch the class for you? Catch troublemakers?"

Snape's continuing silence prompted Draco to continue, trying to infuse some logic into his argument, "I want her safe, but entertained, and she likes you - "

"I will consider it."

A broad smile crossed Draco's face, that was a _yes._ A reluctant one, but still, with his godfather, even a tentative agreement was a victory. "I'll bring her by on Monday for my class, if she can survive Longbottom's potion-making, she'll be fine with you," Draco smiled confidently.

"If Longbottom's _cauldron_ survives the lesson, I'll make your little lion-look-alike my personal mascot," Snape smirked.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  17\. Cheerfully Distressed

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦ **The Importance of Reading Instructions** ♦♦♦

If Dawn had not known better she would have suspected the House Elves of slipping some coffee into her morning meal. Her energy was spiking off the charts and if she'd had a workable tongue and teeth, she was sure she would have been spouting the Willowiest babble ever to be heard this side of the Atlantic.

As it was, Draco was starting to shoot her annoyed looks. She couldn't exactly blame him, her emotions were cycling fast enough to put a kink in his white-blonde bone-straight hair.

Nervous-excited-apprehensive-joyous-bored-annoyed… like the Wheel of Fortune every minute brought a new feeling, and to be honest she was beginning to get a bit dizzy from the rush. Kneazle was not meant to run on adrenaline alone.

She was going to the Potions Class today!

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Draco was anxious.

This was not helped by the fact that his Familiar appeared to have gone quite mad. He rested his throbbing head in his hands, how could anyone be so damn emotional? He felt like he was being alternately spelled with Cheering and Distressing Charms.

"Cat got your tongue?" Blaise inquired, settling down beside him on the Common Room couch.

The blonde lifted his head with an aggrieved groan, "That was atrocious, Blaise, have you been reading those Anthem novels again?"

The black boy frowned in affront, "They're called XANTH novels, and no, I haven't been reading them. The author's taken a sabbatical."

Draco shook his head, "I don't understand how you can read those, the man doesn't even have the decency to publish his books with a Wizarding company!"

"So? Literature is literature, why quibble about the publisher?"

"Oh Merlin, are you heckling him about those bloody books again?" Pansy groaned. "Give it up, Drakey, he's never going to stop," she muttered, perching on the arm of a chair opposite their couch.

"When does Class start again?" Draco questioned.

"In about a half an hour, why? Is likkle Drakey a likkle bit worried?" Pansy asked glibly.

The blonde gestured wordlessly towards his Familiar. The Kneazle was sprinting from one side of the room to the other in a mad race to burn some of the excess energy she had.

"Merlin," Blaise breathed, "What did you feed her? And can we slip some to the Quidditch team?"

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Blue eyes flitted from interesting sight to even more bizarre apparition. Dawn felt like she was on a tour of a haunted house, minus the fake blood and fake… well, everything.

There were ghosts, lots of them, and they weren't the slightest bit Hellmouthy. Alright, Peeves was pushing it, but the Grey Lady seemed nice.

Staircases _moved_! Not like an escalator, but full-on 180 degree turns! Dawn was suddenly grateful for Draco's insistence that she ride on his shoulder, it was becoming increasingly obvious that she was woefully out of her depth.

As for the students, well, she was trying not to focus on them too much. She had not yet figured out how to turn off her 'aura-vision.' Maybe she could find that other Kneazle… Crookshanks, was it? She wrinkled her whiskers, what an odd name for a cat.

The Great Hall had been an interesting experience. Truth be told she had not been able to take her eyes off the ceiling long enough to eat! She could just barely make out where the walls blended into the sky, but what she really wanted to know was how they got the enchantment to stop the rain just above people's noses!

By the time they finally reached the Potions classroom, Dawn had lost a great deal of her nervous energy, and was instead filling up with excited anticipation.

After all, how bad could it be?

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Draco silently took his seat towards the back of the class, Blaise settling beside him while Pansy took her customary position at their backs. The blonde was never entirely sure if she chose to sit behind them as a show of solidarity or to copy his potions notes.

The Gryffindors were, as per usual, seated towards the front. He stifled a snort, _As if Granger would sit anywhere else._ In this, if not in all things academically-related, the rest of the Golden Trio followed her lead. The other Gryff Sixth Years filled in the seats surrounding them, a few of the more timid ones eyeing the Slytherins nearest them with no little trepidation.

Draco smiled at the almost-fear in the Gryff's eyes. Potions class was many Slytherins only entertainment, watching the usually brash and cocky members of the red-and-gold house cowering before a snake was a great morale-booster for a group largely ostracized by their peers.

Regina lifted her head and studied the assembly as the class waited for their Professor to join them. Giving her Wizard a soft lick on the cheek, she leapt for the ground and sauntered towards the front. The Gryffs watched in confusion as she jumped onto Snape's desk and proceeded to lay down and inspect the so-called 'lions' with curious blue eyes.

Draco tensed as she stared at the Trio for what he felt was an inappropriate amount of time. When her gaze flicked on to study Long bottom, he relaxed, almost slumping in his seat.

"Relax," Blaise whispered out of the side of his mouth, "She'll be fine, she's a Kneazle isn't she? She knows who's trustworthy."

"She _knows_ , but she doesn't seem to _care_ ," the blonde growled as his Familiar locked eyes with him and, for Merlin's sake, WINKED!

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Dawn rolled her eyes, Draco was becoming a regular fussy-britches. He didn't seem to realize that she could take care of herself, moving staircases notwithstanding.

There was a slight draft and suddenly Snape appeared from behind a tapestry in the far wall. He nodded sharply at the class before waving his wand casually at the blackboard at the front of the room.

"There is your assignment for the day, brew and explain the ten properties of the 'Mercuriam' by the end of class. Vial and essay due on my desk by then," he rubbed the Kneazle's ears gently as he reached the desk.

The class stared at him, startled by this show of - dare they name it - 'softness' by the most feared teacher in the school.

He glared, dark eyes flashing black fire, "Well? What are you waiting for? Get to work!" Snape settled into his chair, watching his pupils moodily as they haltingly began what he knew would be one of their most difficult lessons this term.

Dawn insinuated her head under his hand, silently asking him to continue his ministrations while she too studied the class. She positively _itched_ to have her hands back, this looked absolutely fascinating! And although she freely admitted her cooking skills were, well, absolutely nonexistent, maybe she could do this. Mixing magical ingredients to make this, Mercur-whatsit had to be more fun than following stupid instructions out of some dumb ol' cookbook.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  18\. Fergamor the Fruitful

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Being scratched was nice, but after a while it began to pall when compared with the interesting things going on elsewhere in the class. Dawn stretched, gave Broody-pants one more affectionate rub of her head, and began to explore the room.

The floor and walls were stone, rather cold and damp-seeming in comparison with the brightly-lit hallways and passages outside. The walls were lined with shelves absolutely covered in strange and wild things.

Dawn eyed them with great interest and not a little nostalgia. _Willow would have killed to get her hands on some of these ingredients,_ she mused sadly.

Shaking her head to dispel such dismal subjects, Dawn continued her survey of the room. All of the students were working furiously over their cauldrons: mixing, stirring, chopping, cutting… it looked like Halloween at a culinary school.

"… Sliced? Is that finer or coarser than 'diced?'" One boy mumbled nervously as he eyed a particularly nasty-looking herb, it gave off a faint and wispy green fog that rolled off the table to pool on the floor. Dawn sniffed at it, then backed away hurriedly after it caused her to sneeze three times in rapid succession.

The nervous boy favored her with a rather distracted smile, "Obnorle weed, causes irritation in all it's forms, a key ingredient in many medi-spells." He trailed off into mutterings inaudible even to Dawn's superior Kneazle-ears.

Leaving the boy behind somewhat reluctantly, she went on to the next table. Seated here were two of the boys she had met on the train: Larry and Don?

The redhead looked up and eyed her with suspicion, "Look, Draco's sent his Familiar over to sabotage us."

"What?" The girl from the train turned from her seat in front of them to inspect the Kneazle too. She sighed with annoyance, "Oh, honestly Ron, what do you think she's going to do? Tip your cauldron over?" The brunette scoffed at the thought. "Keep your mind on the potion! It's very volatile," she eyed the piece of silvery skin they had been about to add and winced, hissing, "Not that much Boomslang skin! You're more likely to melt that face off some poor person than do any reasonable good with _that_!"

The dark-haired boy hurriedly scooped a portion of the silver stuff to the opposite end of his workspace before adding the rest to the cauldron, "This ok, 'Mione?" He stirred the cauldron quickly, counting under his breath until he had made eight clockwise revolutions.

Hermione inspected the now-iridescent mixture critically, "A hair less thyme and a pinch more cockatrice scale and you'll be fine." Turning to Dawn she frowned, "Why are you over here?"

Surprised at being addressed, Dawn shrugged, attempting to convey, _I was bored._

The brunette's lips quirked a little at the human gesture on a feline body, "I see, well, please go. This potion is extremely difficult and very precise, we don't ne - "

"Need you opening your mouth and distracting the class, now do we?" Came the silky voice of the Professor. "Ten points from Gryffindor for distracting the class."

"What? Malfoy's the one who brought his Familiar in here!" Squawked an indignant Ron, Dawn noticed with interest that the tips of his ears were beginning to turn a bright fiery red.

"Mr. Weasley, Regina has my express permission to be in here, you however do _not_ have my permission to open your large, overly loud mouth," he smiled, and it was not a friendly expression, "I believe a week's worth of detentions with Filch should teach you to at least _attempt_ to think before you speak, however I despair of you ever learning to think at all." He swept away in a flourish of dark robes that an admiring Dawn thought mildly reminiscent of the way Spike flashed his trench coat about.

The bespectacled boy leaned towards his still-fuming redheaded friend to whisper comfortingly, "At least he didn't remember to take off any more points!"

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Time passed and most of the students had finished brewing their attempts at the potion. Dawn saw with amusement and a little sympathy that most of the vials being turned in at the front were wildly different from one another. The most common, and therefore probably the most correct, trend was that of iridescence. A few of the potions looked like gasoline-stains, while three were absolutely mesmerizing: they flowed from color to color like psychedelic lava-lamps.

As the majority of the class had moved on to writing, Dawn was getting a little bored again. There were only three students still brewing their potions, and two of them had done the essay first, thinking it would be better to get the easy part out of the way before tackling the more difficult task of actually _brewing_ a proper Mercuriam.

She could either be productive for the next few minutes, or go bother the three students who were now mixing their potions. On the one hand she had not had the patience to sit still long enough for a tongue bath this morning, her fur was sticking up in all angles as a consequence. On the other hand however she could go hassle someone, preferably an individual she had not spent the past week hanging around.

So Dawn focused her attention once more on the nervous boy. He was looking increasingly frantic as he chopped, sliced, diced, and generally appeared to be in constant activity while really getting nothing done.

She leapt up onto the edge of his workspace, startling him into dropping a vial of some red liquid. With a bobble or two he managed to get it up onto the table again without spilling it, though that didn't stop him from throwing a desperate and quelling glare her way.

He rather reminded her of Xander, all fumbling hands and big brown eyes. She quickly amended that to: _Xander in trouble with Anya._ He had that slightly hunted look on his face that her old crush had developed whenever he knew that he'd ticked off the ex-demon and still wasn't sure how to make it up. This had happened quite often towards the beginning of their relationship, so for Dawn that expression was as home-like as PMS on Buffy's unsmiling face.

"Boomslang skin?" He wiped furiously at his forehead, his hand coming back damp with sweat, "How _much_ Boomslang skin?" He stared helplessly at the pile of shredded silver stuff.

Dawn felt a little sorry for him. Besides, she knew how much skin now, thanks to Hermione's whispered conference with the two boys from the train. She gave a soft meow, drawing nerve-boy's attention towards her before nudging the ingredients around delicately with her nose, creating two piles. She batted gently at one with her paw, indicating that it was the one he should use.

He smiled at her gratefully, then scooped up the small pile and dumped it into his cauldron. Instantly the concoction turned an angry-looking red, and Dawn had time for only one thought before the mess erupted:

_Uh-oh… wrong pile?_

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Draco had spent the first fifteen minutes of class covertly watching his Familiar. Somehow she would find a way to get in trouble, he knew it. But as time passed and she seemed content to sit in Snape's lap and be pampered, he focused his attention on the potion.

It was a very interesting bit of work, the Mercuriam. It was mainly used to reduce the effects of hormones on pregnant witches. Accidental magic grew nastier the older a person was, and many a man had ended up in the hospital after his wife's annual bout of morning sickness.

The balance of the potion was as temperamental as the women it was typically intended to soothe, the slightest bit of deviation could turn it into something else entirely. The many variations on the potion had been studied at length by it's creator, Fergamor Fletchly, also known as Fergamor the Fruitful for his thirty-seven children.

Draco remembered him from the rather harried look he had on his Chocolate Frog's trading card. Fergamor's picture was one of the few that had more than him in it: he was always holding one of his many children.

By the time he had finished his potion, Draco was no longer worried about his Familiar. After all, most of his classmates were finished brewing, what trouble could she get into now?

There was a soft sound, like a muffled pop, and a soft spatter of liquid fell from the air onto the pale blonde. He shook the droplets from his hand and watched in surprise as they began to turn his paper and sleeve varying shades of color. There was no distress coming from the bond, only a mild state of surprise and growing amusement.

"Longbottom!" Snape snarled in the voice he used only for the worst and most obvious of mistakes.

Draco shut his eyes with a pained sigh.

Regina had found Longbottom.

The earth was doomed.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  19\. Day-Glo Kneazle

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

"What. Did. You. Do?"

Neville gulped. Hard. Six years-worth of attendance to Professor Snape's classes taught one how to differentiate between the Five Levels of Mad, even if one learned nothing else. Currently the livid Professor was just past a three, and rapidly climbing towards four.

"I - I - I added the boomslang skin, sir."

"Yes, I realize that, Longbottom, what _else_ did you add?"

"No - nothing, sir," he stuttered.

Dawn meowed loudly, balancing upright on her hind legs and waving her paws in a rather amusing imitation of a student raising her hand. Unfortunately her gesturing resulted in yet _more_ of the goop that had formerly been in the cauldron splashing about the room. Several students were in the process of wringing out their hair, robes, or books; none looked even remotely pleased to be doing so.

Neville gestured towards the Kneazle, "The Familiar was trying to help me, and, I, ah…" He trailed off into stupefied shock as he saw something in the Professor's gaze that he'd never seen before. It was gone in an instant, but for just the barest of moments, Neville could have _sworn_ he saw amusement in the Professor's face.

Severus rubbed his temple ineffectually, the migraine growing there could not be ousted by mere massage, "Mr. Longbottom, do you pay _any_ attention whatsoever in my class?"

"Ye - yes, sir."

"And," the frustrated teacher continued in a silky voice, "Do you happen to recall the _effects_ that certain magical creatures may have on potions?"

Neville nodded cautiously, and then with a tad more vigor before reciting, "Unicorns nullify poisons, acromantulas increase potency, phoenixes -"

"Yes, I see you _do_ pay the barest attention. Now, Mr. Longbottom, did you never stop to consider that a _Kneazle_ , however beneficial a magical creature it may be, might _also_ have an affect on your potion?" The Professor quirked an curious eyebrow at his least-favorite student, "No, I see you did not."

Preparing to sweep away, Snape was stilled by the halting voice of the Sixth Year:

"But, Professor, if the Kneazle will muck up our potions, why is she in the class?"

Severus turned, eyeing the boy curiously: maybe there really _was_ a spine underneath all that stuttering and ineptitude. "The only potion she 'mucked up' was your own," his lip curled into a small sneer, "Really, Longbottom, if you are so desperate as to resort to asking for the aid of someone else's Familiar…" He shook his head with mock despair.

The dark-eyed Professor eyed the mess with barely-contained disgust. Multi-colored goop absolutely soaked fully a quarter of the class, luckily the blast seemed to be contained to mostly the Gryffindor section. Regina, Neville, Granger, Finnigan, and Brown seemed to be the worst off. All were attempting to remove the potion from their skin with varying amounts of success.

Snape smiled evilly, "Due to the… bungling of your classmate, you are being provided with the opportunity to observe one of the _rarer_ forms that a Mercuriam may take: that of the mood-indicator. For the next few days, I will expect you to observe and report on the different colors that your fellow students turn." He snorted, "Some of you may even learn something… if you try."

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Later that evening, with a small shot glass of Ogden's Finest, Severus reviewed his day.

All in all, even with the addition of a Kneazle, it had been a rather average Monday.

He snorted, though the feline had been amusing, he doubted she would be allowed outside the Slytherin Dormitories any time soon. Draco had an image to maintain, after all, and having a Day-Glo-Kneazle for a Familiar simply did not say what the Malfoy heir wished to project.

Regina had managed to downplay the Longbottom boy's mistake from a Level Four catastrophe to a mere Level Three mistake. Severus sighed, that boy… not since the Marauders, the older teachers proclaimed, had a student (or group of students) created so much chaos. Even the Weasley twins had been orderly, almost reliable, in their pranks. Not that any of the teachers would have dared to suggest such a thing, for fear of finding one such 'organized' prank hidden in their classroom of wardrobe.

Severus frowned, what he couldn't entirely understand was how Regina had managed to evoke that particular reaction from the Mercuriam. What he had told the Longbottom boy was true, the Familiar's magical core had no doubt compromised the notoriously fickle boomslang skin.

What he did not yet understand was how a simple Kneazle could contain the necessary elements of 'change' and 'vision' to transmute a simple containment potion into a visible-empathy rendering…

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Neville sighed miserably as his fellow Sixth Years jotted down notes. Hermione was taking it all in stride, trying to think and call up various emotions and experiences that would cause her skin and hair to change color.

Lavender had had to be taken to Madame Pomfrey after a small bout of hysterics, Neville idly rubbed the four small scratches that marred his forearm. She had not been pleased to discover that her once-blonde hair was now a vivid sky blue, and getting darker with each passing moment of angry depression…

At last the Common Room emptied out of all but what Neville considered the 'core Gryffindor group': Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny.

"If it wasn't for Malfoy's stupid cat…" Ron grumbled angrily.

"I don't think she did it on purpose."

The redhead shot Neville an irritated look, "Of course she did! It was an obvious act of sabotage!"

Hermione looked up, frowning, "No, I agree with Neville." A small smile curved her lips, "Did you see Malfoy's face? He was absolutely horrified, it was the 'Bouncing Ferret Incident' all over again."

"Still, it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on the Kneazle: she's smart, and I bet Ron's right," Harry broke in thoughtfully, causing the redhead to perk up a bit, "She probably will do whatever Malfoy wants. Like Mrs. Norris, only ten times worse!"

"Harry, she's a _kneazle_. What on earth do you think she is going to do?" The brunette scoffed at her two best friend's skeptical looks, huffing exasperatedly, "If you're so worried about her, check the Map. See what dastardly deeds she's committing."

One short trip to the Boy's Dormitory later, the whole group was huddled around the fireplace. Ginny leaned over Harry's shoulder to get a better look at the Map, causing the dark-haired boy to flush a pale rose.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he intoned, tapping the Map carefully. Instantly the smooth black lines that depicted the Hogwarts school spread from the tip of his wand to cover the paper in their intricate scrawl.

"There's Malfoy," Ginny pointed, leaning yet further.

"Yes," Hermione frowned, "But where's the Familiar? Isn't her name Regina?"

They studied the Map carefully, unable to spot a dot labeled 'Regina' no matter how hard they tried.

"Wait… there's something," Harry pointed. Almost directly on top of Malfoy's dot was another, almost impossible to discern. They leaned forward collectively to inspect this dot, Ginny almost a hairsbreadth from collapsing into Harry's lap.

"Dawn Summers?" Ron frowned in confusion, "Who's Dawn Summers?"

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  20\. The Last Dance

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦ **Cauldron Bubble** ♦♦♦

The phone slid quietly from Giles's hand to hit the floor with a sharp crack. Moving like a man of eighty, he staggered over to the nearest chair and slumped down into it. Faintly he could hear Spike's frantic entreaties and sobs but they were easy to ignore in the face of the blonde's news.

Buffy was dead.

It hurt, knowing that he and the rest of her friends weren't enough to hold her back from heaven. He'd seen it coming in the too-bright shimmer of her eyes, the way her lips twisted whenever she tried to muster up a smile for them. The fights she had thrown herself into got bigger and bigger every time he called: she was facing ten to fifteen vampires at a time and beating them all.

She was the best Slayer that had ever lived, and she had been suicidal. He snorted, was it really suicide when you were already dead inside? They had borrowed Buffy from her rightful place for a short while, but offered no real concrete reason for her to stay with them.

Xander and Anya moved away, Willow went dark, and Dawn… Giles smiled softly, Dawn had known right away that this was not right, this woman-thing was not the sister she had known, teased, and loved.

Maybe if he'd told Buffy that Dawn was missing… but no, it wasn't right to try and hold her here with that. He knew duty and love would keep her with them, by leaving they'd left her with duty, and she had become everything the Watcher's Council wanted in a Slayer, a fact that brought a bitter smile to Giles's face. Two deaths to kill the life Buffy had had burning in her like a forest fire.

He picked up the phone, "Spike."

A shuddering breath, "Yeah?"

"Come to London."

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  21\. A Rosy Dawn

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Neville was of two minds regarding the benefits of the Mercuriam Mishap, as he had termed it. On the one hand, Ron was rather pleased with himself: the discovery that Lavender was quite enamored of him was the catalyst needed to get the two of them together.

Adversely, it was now apparent that Hermione Granger, to the surprise of all, did not in any way, shape, or form like the redhead in anything more than a friendly way.

The problem with this? Lavender Brown.

She, like many other newly-dating females, wanted to spread the joy she felt by matching up everyone else in her immediate vicinity. Being that her new beau was one-third of the Trio, her 'vicinity' included the decidedly uninterested Harry and his bushy-haired friend. Sticking with those affected by the potion, Lavender fixed on Hermione as her first target.

Needless to say, the brunette took a dim view of this. Lavender's method of 'matching up' involved countless hours of the blonde sitting beside the studious girl and reciting name after name, waiting for that tell-tale rosy hue to appear.

By the time all the boys in Gryffindor had been exhausted (an activity that took almost three days, as in an uncharacteristic show of attention to detail, Lavender went from the Third Years all the way through to the boys who had graduated when they were First Years): Hermione was a neon orange, signifying _great_ annoyance, and Lavender was appropriately… lavender with determination.

To add more flame to the fire, Lavender had recruited Parvati Patil and the two had proceeded to begin tag-teaming. By now word had gotten around and the Gryffindor Common Room had never been so full as it was whenever Hermione and Lavender or Parvati were in it. Watching the usually unflappable Hermione get more and more frustrated was a rare treat for the students who had grown used to regarding her as the most prepared and levelheaded of them all.

Neville was glad that the Weasley twins had graduated. If they had been around the betting pool would have been thrown open to the other Houses.

As it stood, Neville himself had fifteen Knuts on Hermione cracking before the potion wore off. He shook his head as he watched Lavender sit down beside the brunette, notepad of names in hand.

Yes, judging by the tension in Hermione's shoulders, Lavender would be visiting Madame Pomfrey again any day now.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Pansy snorted as she watched what could only be described as a 'pleading' expression formed on the Kneazle's face. The accompanying color was an odd mixture of green and orange. She was fascinated by the shades her fur could become and had been in front of the mirror from morning till night ever since the incident.

Gregory had conjured a full-length mirror in the dormitory to keep his year mate's Familiar from sneaking into the bathroom. It wasn't her presence that bothered the boy so much as the brilliant pink shade she turned whenever she saw any of them.

The Kneazle, it seemed, was a touch shy.

Blaise had taken this discovery to heart as soon as he noticed the rose color he seemed to inspire in Regina. In all her years at Hogwarts, Pansy had never seen him shirtless so often. In fact Regina had started to hide whenever he came into the room. A behavior which amused the acerbic Slytherin girl to no end.

"Regina, don't you want your kitty-kibble?" The dark-haired Slytherin girl asked innocently, nudging the bowl which housed the Kneazle's lunch with her foot.

Draco snorted from his position sprawled across his sheets, "Pans, if you could hear what I hear you'd be shutting your gob right about now."

"Why? What's she saying?"

The blonde adopted a thoughtful pose, "Well, the closest translation I can come up with is 'heinous bitch.'" He glanced over towards the Familiar who now glowed a rather self-satisfied green, "That about right?"

She nodded, and proceeded to begin giving herself a rather vigorous tongue bath.

Pansy smirked evilly, "What does she think when Blaise is in the room?"

"Somebody say my name?" The boy in question poked his head into the room before his body followed, sans shirt.

Regina dove for the bed, burrowing under the messy sheets which draped down to hide the dark alcove that she had begun to make her 'spot' as soon as Blaise discovered the effect he had on her.

Blaise looked around, "Where's Regina?"

"Hiding, as usual," Draco answered, annoyed.

"I don't think she enjoys your particular brand of exhibitionism," Pansy muttered primly, flipping through a new copy of Witch Weekly.

An agreeing hiss sounded from beneath the bed.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

_How much longer?_ Dawn moaned mentally. Seeing the correspondence between emotions and colors was really cool… for about the first fifteen minutes.

Watching Blaise walk around shirtless was nice. Knowing that he _knew_ the effect he was having on her was… not so nice. She might be a Kneazle in form, but she had the hormones of a fifteen-year-old girl pumping through her tiny body. Hormones that went on red-alert whenever the amber-eyed Slytherin boy so much as entered a room.

Worse yet? She wasn't allowed to go back to Potions class until the effects of her little mishap wore off. This was, to her way of thinking, a mixed blessing. If her Wizard's friends teased her about Blaise, how would they respond to her reaction to the Potions teacher?

Not that she even knew what color she would turn. He inspired Giles-like thoughts, minus the annoying tendency to ignore her in favor of Buffy.

Overall Dawn was sorry to say that British Wizards in general seemed to disregard entirely the stereotypical preference for tweed. Tea, however, was in abundance, along with a strange orange beverage that was their equivalent of orange juice. Not that it tasted or smelled even remotely like orange juice, a fact she was sad to say she had found out through trial and error. BLECH!

A hand lifted the concealing curtain of sheet, followed shortly after by a dark head. Blaise smiled brightly at her, "There you are, won't you come out?"

Dawn focused several uncomplimentary thoughts in his direction, knowing her Wizard would pick them up, and hopefully, pass them on. He was getting better and better at noticing and understanding her moods, his little 'translations' were usually dead-on.

"Not a chance in… heck?" Draco repeated.

The former Key sent a wordless pulse of approval and affection along their bond.

"Heck?" She heard Pansy snort, "She called me a bitch, Blaise doesn't even get a minor curse?"

Blaise pulled his head out from underneath the bed, Dawn could hear the smug smirk in his voice, "I suppose that just means I'll have to try harder, then."

_Try_ harder _?_ Dawn thought with a growing sense of alarm, _Oh,_ fuck _!_

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###  22\. Pure Thievery

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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Willow sat at the edge of her bed, hands clenched tightly between her knees to prevent them from trembling. She felt jittery and edgy, there was too much going on, too much _happening_. It was as if the slightest motion could upset the delicate equilibrium she had achieved and send her tumbling down into the waiting maw of hysteria.

Buffy was dead.

Giles had come in with the news a bare two hours ago. But she had known. She had _felt_ the death, even from halfway around the world. _Felt_ the snap as the magic she hadn't even realized she was using was returned to her.

It was funny, if she thought about it. Funny that the Witches of the Coven had been working with her for so long, trying to help her find her center, and failing. None of them had guessed, and how could they when she herself didn't even know?

The spell of resurrection had been tied to Willow. It was her magic that had torn Buffy's soul from heaven, healed her shell of the ravages of grave and time, and stuffed the unwilling spirit back into it's former home.

Put into perspective it was a wonder that she hadn't figured it out. Every breath Buffy took, every moment Buffy existed when all she wanted to do was go back to her peace, was stolen: pure thievery. Willow's magic was not sentient: it flowed like a river, and when set on a down-hill path it could only continue in it's course.

She had been sustaining the Slayer for months now: feeding her when she didn't eat, giving her just enough will to survive, strengthening the muscles that wanted only to relax into their final rest. Months of energy flowing from redhead to blonde… and now the bond was gone, snapped like a twig, and Willow was left with the consequences.

The Wicca winced as she felt a _twinge_ from deep inside. Her magic was different now, riddled through as it was with Buffy's foreign energies. For so long the magic had been devoted to the continued existence of the Slayer, it had _learned_ her, conformed to her natural aura… it felt like a brick nestled in Willow's stomach, heavy and aching.

But at the same time she felt lighter and easier. With the melancholy of the Slayer's last moments had come a sense of growing joy. Buffy had gone out of the world kicking and screaming, but happy.

Willow took a deep breath, then scooted back on the bed until her back was resting against the headboard. Her vision dipped and whirled, vertigo at it's worst as her magical balance affected her mundane.

Crossing her legs, she relaxed slowly into one of the many meditative poses the Witches of Devon had been teaching her. Deep breaths, calm head, clear sight…

After all, the sooner she found herself, the sooner she could focus on finding Dawnie.

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###  23\. My Buttery Croissant

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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Neville headed to Potions Class with a little extra spring in his step. How could he not? He was in an excellent mood, after all. The tension had broke, the potion had finally worn off!

There were a few consequences still floating around, reminding everyone of the incident. Ron and Lavender were still joined at the hip, and the blonde was now a good friend of Hermione's.

The two had had a showdown in their dormitory away from the prying eyes and ears that made Hogwarts one big dysfunctional family. Lavender had at last found the name of the person who made the know-it-all turn red, or at least pink.

Her resulting shout of triumph had echoed through the castle and was reputed to have startled some of the winged creatures in the Forbidden Forest into flight.

Neville was not precisely sure whether or not he would say that his bushy-haired friend had handled the situation correctly. Instead of whispers of who she liked floating around, their were rumors that she'd dabbled in some less-than-white magics. After all, what else could keep Lavender Brown's mouth clamped tightly down on such a juicy piece of potential gossip?

Personally, Neville didn't think Hermione needed anything more coercive than a threat. Not for nothing was she called the 'smartest witch of their age.' Accusing her of black magics was rather foolish, he was sure she would be plenty frightening enough with the snowiest of snowy spells. But regardless of how the tension had ceased, he was content to just have it be gone.

Yes indeed, it was turning out to be a pretty good day…

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

She had never been so happy to see the color brown in all her life. Brown, cinnamon, mahogany, whatever you wanted to call it, it was glorious and it covered every inch of her fur!

Except for those two slanted scars that had followed her even into Kneazle-form.

Dawn could dance for joy! She was no longer a walking mood-cat! She could go to Potions again! She should not have eaten that little bit of pastry Pansy had offered her! The sugar ratio was quite different to her feline system!

Live and learn!!!

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

"She's doing it again, Draco," Pansy muttered crossly. She was beginning to develop a headache. How long could that feline bounce off the walls?

"Well it's your fault, Pans," the blonde snarled every bit as cross as the brunette. He could feel the giddiness pouring off his Familiar and it was making him want to do the oddest things. Some sort of stiff-armed, galloping dance?

Blaise nodded at them solemnly from where he sat, "Indeed, you should not have given her half of your buttery croissant. _I_ wanted that buttery croissant!"

"Which is why I gave it to her."

"Bitch."

"Drama queen."

He rolled his eyes and pulled a face, "Moi? You wound me!"

Pansy smirked, "Good, dare I hope it's fatal?"

"Children, children, _please_! Cease and desist your bickering. I have a headache," Draco growled, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

"It'll be _fine_ , Drake. She's already caused one potions disaster, what else have you got to be worried about?" Blaise asked cheerfully.

"Oh, I don't know, the end of the world?" Seeing both brunettes eyeing him confusedly, Draco shook his head, "Never mind."

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Dawn had calmed down a bit by the time they reached the Potions Classroom. In fact, she was in the midst of her sugar-crash and slept through the entire period - much to the assorted Gryffindor's delight.

She was not very interested in the Ravenclaw / Hufflepuff First Years, who had class next. Instead she explored the dungeon classroom: it was a veritable treasure trove of oddness and wonder that could no doubt keep her occupied for hours, so she decided to savor it.

The next day was interesting - Draco did not have Potions, the other Sixth Years did. Dawn found herself falling into a routine. She would sleep through the first class (usually a crash from some sort of sugary breakfast food courtesy of Pansy) then explore during the second class.

This practice got her through an entire week without incidents. By that time she felt that she'd explored the Potions Room sufficiently, and besides there'd been no incidents. Surely it would be alright for her to begin interacting with the students again, right?

Right?

After all, she was restless and most assuredly bored with the routine of the last week. Avoiding the students was safer, sure, but it wasn't particularly entertaining. And wasn't the whole point of her spending time in the Potions Room to keep her entertained?

By that logic she was almost _duty_ -bound to interact with a student or two! Decision made, Dawn prepared for her first - make that _second_ \- class of the day.

She purred as the students filed in. This was a group she could work with! The Sixth Year Ravenclaw / Gryffindors… there had to be someone distracting in this class, there just had to be!

Suddenly a swirling blanket of colors caught Dawn's eye and she gave a feline grin.

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###  24\. Sick and Tired

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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It was hard. Being with Willow all the time.

Their relationship had been so up-and-down leading up to the big blowout, had in fact been in one of those 'down' phases.

She wondered from time to time if it was her fault, if she should take some of the blame. Then she got over it. Realized that yeah, Willow probably would have been ok for a few more days if they'd still been together, but this was a long time coming.

It was a slippery slope from soul-restoration to resurrection to ending the world. Intent was everything and Willow had been slowly losing the purity that had saved her from the nastier consequences of some of her earlier works.

Not just a 'rank amateur' as Giles said: more like an amateur who fell off a cliff into a pool of four-leaf-clovers and had a rain of rabbit's feet protect them from the hail of horseshoes that would've boinked her silly.

Somebody up their liked Willow, a lot. Unfortunately Tara didn't think that somebody had everyone's best interests in mind. If they had, would they have let Dawnie run away?

And there was a whole 'nother ball of guilt rolling around in her belly. She had ignored the teen, they _all_ had. Missing the house-fire for the gas station explosion! Honestly they should have expected something like this, Dawnie was never one for taking grief or boredom idly.

There was the mom-resurrection spell, the stealing, the having of inappropriate friends… although said friend was currently on his way to England so technically she supposed he wasn't 'inappropriate' anymore… Tara felt the need to go brain herself against a wall. Why hadn't they paid her more mind?

And now Buffy was dead, again, for good this time. No returning the poor soul to the flesh coffin, she was probably much better off in the wooden one. Or wait, didn't Giles say something about cremation? Anyways, Dawnie was gone and alone and didn't know about her sister.

All this - this chaos flickering around, her getting in her eyes, swimming through her mind. It all stemmed from apathy and ignorance and Willow...

... and Tara was tired of it, sick and tired.

Something had to change. Soon.

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###  25\. Silver and Gold

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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Dawn rocketed off the desk and into the arms of the loopiest Ravenclaw before Snape could so much as flinch. The Kneazle was ridiculously happy to see the blonde again, sitting in her arms felt a lot like 'home.' It was strange and comforting and made Dawn want to cry nonexistent Kneazle-tears of homesickness… but that didn't mean she felt like getting up anytime soon.

"Poor dear, sit here," Luna cooed to the agitated feline. Dawn was sheathing and unsheathing her claws into the dark robes, though no pain showed in those strangely misty blue eyes.

"Luna, watcha got there?"

The blonde smiled vaguely at her sharp, redheaded friend, "Kitten with issues."

Ginny snorted, "If _I_ was Draco Malfoy's Familiar I'd have issues too."

A sharp rap drew the attention of the class away from the odd spectacle and Snape started his lesson. Ginny and Luna worked together, in no way hampered by the tightly-curled ball of fur purring ferociously between them on the bench.

Dawn slowly relaxed, enjoying the feel of Luna's magical aura caressing her, calming her. The slightly-more-corporeal stroking offered by the redhead, Ginny, wasn't bad either. Cat people, both of them.

She loved cat people.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Slowly Dawn found a rhythm in her days. It depended on the class, but often she found herself singling out a student or two for extra attention. Certain people who were quieter or less skilled would find themselves with a furry foot-blanket or a comforting purr at their elbows.

Luna, Ginny, Daphne, Justin, Dennis: all of them became her special favorites. If Snape was annoyed by this strange behavior, he gave no sign of it. An angry magical creature was not something he wanted to see mucking about his precious classroom.

He observed the feline, dark eyes intent and analyzing. She was different. Smarter than the average Kneazle? No. But somehow she seemed more articulate, more aware of those who were not her Wizard.

And those scars, dark marks that had nothing to do with servitude and everything to do with a slow death and lots of pain. There were a few rituals that he knew of off the top of his head that involved the sacrifice of a magical creature but most of them called for something with far more power than any mere Kneazle could possess.

She was a puzzle, an enigma poised at the center of the Slytherin web. He did not know… and that was the problem. Regina was more than she appeared to be.

But what could a Kneazle be hiding?

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

It was a lovely Saturday, and probably one of the last nice ones Hogwarts would see for some months. Students were taking advantage of the pleasant weather to walk the grounds, watch the Gryffindor Quidditch Team practice, and just generally avoid their weekend homework.

Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Regina had laid claim to a tree halfway around the lake. It was a bushy thing, rather squat and low to the ground, but it flared out into a maze of branches perfect for climbing -

Or at least, that's what Dawn thought.

"Get down from there!"

Pansy eyed her blonde year-mate in thinly veiled disgust, "You sound like a nagging husband. Worse: you sound like the Weasel's mum!"

"She could get hurt." He reached up towards Regina as if he expected her to leap into his arms, "Come down, come on."

A tan hand reached up and none-too-gently jerked Draco off his feet, "Leave the poor kit alone! She hasn't seen the sky in weeks and neither have we!"

"Speak for yourself," Draco muttered huffily, but he too relaxed against the ground.

"Kit?"

"Hmm?"

"You've given her a nickname now?"

Blaise propped himself up onto his elbows to better look at his sarcastic friend, "Yeah, what of it?"

Pansy snorted, "You're nicer to that feline than you are to any girl you've ever dated!"

He smirked in her general direction, letting his head fall back to soak up more sun, "Jealous?"

Her reaction was a predictable squawk, "Jealous? Of what? I don't do interspecies relationships…"

They dissolved into a bout of good-natured squabbling, the comforting sounds of their banter lulling Draco into an easy doze. The sun was shining, a breeze was blowing, his friends were arguing, all was right with the world.

Dawn was decidedly uninterested in the little scene playing out beneath her. She was _outside_ : where there was fresh air and sunshine and interesting things to sniff and chase! The bark of the shrub-tree was scratchy and marvelously textured beneath her paws, the sun felt absolutely heavenly against her fur, and the breeze?

There were no words to describe the wonderful touch of the wind as it ruffled her ears, bringing with it the sounds of numerous students enjoying their leisure time. She lifted her nose to the wind and enjoyed the medley that assaulted her, not trying to differentiate the different sources of each unique scent, just enjoying the way they came together.

The world was her oyster, and she was definitely in the mood for some crackin'!

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

It was a glorious day. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had dragged everyone out of the Common Room to watch the practice - though the youngest Weasley had yet to show up to watch the practice herself. Even Hermione had come, she looked up from her essays every so often to cheer a particularly good block or score.

Neville was comfortably stretched out along one of the bleachers and nearing sleep, so when a voice spoke from just behind and above his right ear, he could be forgiven for his automatic reaction:

Luna's voice was very solemn, "The key is the sky."

"Wha - " He jumped and fell with an 'oof' between two rows of seats. Once he had regained his seat he turned to the airy Ravenclaw, "What was that?"

She smiled brilliantly, "Oh, nothing. Just the Woorfgangs and Snealers rattling my brain." She held out a small bag, "Popcorn?"

"Sure, thanks," he took a handful and popped it into his mouth without seeing the odd, almost orange-tinge dusting the snack. His face slowly turned red and his eyes began to water. "Luna?" He caught her attention with the hoarseness of his voice.

"Yes?"

"What did you put on the popcorn?"

"Some chili powder, a bit of cayenne pepper. You know, this and that." She eyed his overly-rosy complexion in concern, "You don't look too good, Neville, would you like a drink?" She rattled a thermos before him, soft clunking could be heard along with the more typical sound of sloshing liquid.

"No thanks, Luna."

She shrugged, "Ah well, more for me… Would you like some, Hermione?"

The bushy-haired girl didn't even look up, "I brought my own snacks, thanks."

Ginny walked up, out of breath, "Got any popcorn, Luna?"

"Of course," the blonde handed over the bag, "Where have you been? Detained by Snarflegogs?"

She grimaced and stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth, chewing noisily before she answered, "Nah, just Filch." The redhead looked down at the popcorn in dismay, "You left out the raspberry?"

"I didn't think you were coming, nobody likes raspberry-cayenne popcorn except us."

"True."

Hermione looked up at last, "Raspberry-cayenne?"

Ginny nodded, "It's quite good. Especially with a blueberry-hot-chocolate chaser." She held out a hand, "Luna?"

Neville looked faintly green as he desperately changed the subject from food to something more palatable, "Anyways… have you figured out who Dawn Summers is yet?"

"No, but we know it's someone close to Malfoy," Hermione frowned.

"The clock is ticking, almost time for all good Windsnuffling Deathdealers to come out and play," Luna muttered inaudibly.

"Did you bring the map out with you?" Ginny inquired.

"Yes…" It took Hermione several minutes of searching, sifting, and reorganizing for her to find that one blank parchment sheet. She looked up to find three sets of eyes staring at her in unabashed amusement, "What?"

"We thought you were _organized_ ," Luna eyed the various stacks reproachfully.

Ginny piped in, grinning, "Honestly Hermione, did you have to bring the whole library with you?"

The bushy brunette had the grace to blush, "Oh, leave me alone! When your OWLs come around you'll be begging me to help you study!"

"So what does the map say?"

Hermione tapped the parchment and watched the spindly black lines spread across the old paper. She frowned as the grounds came into view on the map, "I don't see - no, there she is! She's heading towards the Forbidden Forest."

Instantly all four were on their feet peering from the stands, trying to catch a glimpse of Dawn Summers headed towards the forest.

"Maybe she's under an invisibility cloak?" Neville suggested.

"Maybe," Hermione shrugged, "But they're pretty rare." She bit her lip thoughtfully, "I wonder if Malfoy knows she's gone?"

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###  26\. Heart of the Demon

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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He was going home.

_Home._

He savored the word, rolled it over in his head, poked and prodded it, yet still it remained. Odd, that. His demon didn't really like the word, and when had he come to think of his demon as separate? What was he dividing it from? He was the demon, and the demon was him, and that was the bloody end of it.

Except, it wasn't was it?

He'd changed, he _was_ changing. He was about to have been in the process of becoming that which was not the same as the thing he currently existed as.

However he gussied it up, something was different, and if he was honest with himself - an abhorrent practice he typically shunned - he'd have to admit that he'd known that for a long time.

Demons couldn't love. It was too positive of an emotion, it was an unconditional thing freely given and received.

Demons didn't _give_. Therefore love was anathema. This was not to say that they couldn't be passionate, lustful, obsessive or any of the other things that humans could foolishly mistake for love.

Spike was a prime example of both passion and obsession. His relationship with Dru was the perfect illustration of the latter, and what he'd felt for Buffy was quite obviously the former.

But it hadn't just been passion, had it?

No, he'd had to go and bugger it up, he'd actually _loved_ the Slayer. And that was impossible: demons couldn't love, so what was he?

'Cause whatever it was - this change, metamorphosis, what have you - it hadn't gone away. It had influenced his treatment of Dawn, first through his love for Buffy, and then when he'd gone and started to love the little bit.

His demon railed, fought, bit, and _clawed_ at his skull. It tried desperately to change the love into something it understood, into the nearest vampiric equivalent: the relationship between sire and childe.

The chip nixed that impulse and the love did the rest. He had - dare he say it - somehow gotten a heart. It didn't beat, but it felt: it loved Dawn, it mourned Buffy, it was a bloody nuisance but he didn't think he'd be rid of it anytime soon.

It had gotten him here, sitting in the cargo hold of some ship, smokin' a fag and waiting to arrive. Had to help the Scoobs, had to find Dawnie, had to make sure his niblet was safe.

An maybe, just maybe, find out if Red had gotten spell-happy with his soul.

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###  27\. Into the Woods - Part One

Disclaimer in first chapter.

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There was a soft 'whoosh' of displaced air as Harry and Ron pulled up their brooms next to their four friends.

"What's all the fuss about?"

"Yeah," Ron echoed, "You missed it! I blocked this amazing shot and -"

" _Dawn Summers_ is headed towards the Forbidden Forest," Hermione interrupted the redhead without looking back from her perusal of the grounds. "Except we can't see her - "

"Maybe she has an invisibility cloak."

Neville nodded, "That's what I said!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "And _I_ said that invisibility cloaks are quite rare, can we move on now?"

Ginny frowned thoughtfully, "Either way she's probably in the forest by now, and I think Malfoy's figured it out."

"Really?" Harry asked, "How d'you figure?"

The youngest Weasley pointed to the three forms racing towards the Forest, "I don't think he's very pleased."

"No," Hermione stifled a small grin, "I daresay not."

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

"She'll be _fine_ Draco. Honestly, you act as if she's never been outside before."

"For all I know she hasn't! She didn't exactly come with a detailed history when I bought her. For all I know this is the first time she's been outside, _ever_!"

"It's doubtful," Pansy echoed Blaise's sentiment, panting as she tried to catch up with the two boy's longer stride. "I'm sure they've let her out before."

"But we don't _know_ that!"

"Look," Blaise caught up to Draco and grabbed his arm, spinning him around and gripping his shoulders. "You're bonded to the kit for Merlin's sake, do you _feel_ any distress?"

"No."

"Pain?"

" _No._ "

"Fear?"

" _NO!_ "

"Then cripes mate, what're you so worried about?"

Draco at last allowed his friend to see the fear that drove him, letting his silver eyes sparkle with the worry he held inside for his Familiar. "It's the Forbidden Forest, Blaise," he said in a tone that was as close to pleading as his Malfoy pride would allow.

The amber-eyed boy looked at him long and hard, finally acquiescing with a small nod, "Alright, but you've got to start to trust the kit sometime. She's your Familiar, not your toddler!"

There was an unladylike snort from behind them, "Toddlers have more freedom than he allows her: I had the run of the Parkinson estate before I hit my terrible twos!"

"And _how_ many times did you visit St. Mungo's before you were ten?" Draco asked acidly.

"Twelve," Pansy smirked unrepentantly. "And it was before I turned _eight_ : that was when the guard-creatures learned that I bite back," she bared her teeth at the boys in a fierce grin. "C'mon then, lets go find your un-Kneazle-like Kneazle, I've never been in the Forest before."

Draco eyed the dark trees with foreboding, remembering his first year and first detention with a shudder, "It's not all it's cracked up to be."

Blaise shrugged, "Legends rarely are. Alright then, wands out, lets go." With that the three friends plunged into the wood, creatures beware.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Dawn did not exactly set out with the intention of going into the Forest. She was enjoying the breeze, the sun, the grass, the small fluffy things to be chased… In fact her first sight of the oft-talked-about wood filled her with a sense of foreboding. It was dark and creepy even on a bright autumn day.

She was enjoying the chance to chase butterflies and moths, using her claws the way they were supposed to be used. One particularly vivid insect caught her eye. It was a beetle about the length of her pinky finger… when she'd _had_ a pinky finger.

The insect had first drawn her attention with it's unusual coloring, she had never seen such a bright iridescent green before. It almost blended in with the grass, except that grass rarely flew into her face.

And _that_ was a temptation she could not resist. The chase was on!

The bug led her merrily across the grounds and through the odd bush, even over a few other students. It was a fast sucker, and the prolonged chase made her even more determined to nab it, though what she would do with it once she had it was anybody's guess.

There were some instincts that came with this form that were better left locked deeply in the subconscious, it was one thing to accidentally swallow a bug while on a bike and another thing entirely to eat an insect - shudder - purposefully!

So it was with great surprise that Dawn realized that the sun was no longer shining merrily down upon her. She glanced up and found herself surrounded by trees and brush, from her perspective on the ground she was surrounded by greenery and to top it all off the damn bug had gotten away from her when she was distracted!

_Well shoot,_ she thought disgustedly. Through the bond she could tell that Draco was still napping, though how long that would go on she had no idea. It looked like she would have to get out on her own.

Picking a direction, she started walking. Eventually she'd have to reach the edge of the woods, right? Besides, this was her first time out and about in months, she wasn't going to let a little thing like dark woods and the possibility of nasty things with sharp teeth dissuade her. She was a former resident of Sunnydale! Sister to She-Who-Hangs-Out-In-Cemeteries! She'd spent the night in a crypt _numerous_ times!

Mini pep-talk finished, Dawn set off.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

The Gryffindor gang - plus one Ravenclaw - had decided after some debate that the best chance of finding Dawn Summers lay in following her into the Forest.

"We could always tell Dumbledore," Hermione pointed out reasonably.

Ron scoffed, "By the time we get to the castle she could be gone!"

"Alright," the brunette sighed, " _AFTER_ this we'll go and tell him."

"Why?"

She turned to Harry, "What do you _mean_ , 'why?'"

"Why tell him? What can he do about it?"

"Strengthen the wards, find out who she is!"

Harry shot her a pointed look, "And that worked so well against Sirius?"

"Sirius had a way in…" Ginny started to object then frowned as she followed that thought through: "… and so does this Dawn person." She looked troubled, "I think Harry might be right, after all what proof do we have of this mysterious visitor, other than the map?"

There were nods all around as the decision was made: they would go into the woods in search of the Summers person.

It was but the work of a few minutes for Harry and Ron to ferry everyone save Hermione down from the stands. The know-it-all preferred the _stairs_ , thank you very much. Six years in the Wizarding world had done little to change her mind about the fact that feet were meant to stay firmly on the ground whenever possible.

Once assembled on the edge of the woods, there was yet another debate: this time concerning the further use of the map.

"It's not much use to us once we get _in_ the Forest, now is it?" Ron pointed out reasonably, "Besides, we might run into the snakes, and we don’t want them finding out about it, do we?"

Apart from being surprised by the foresight shown being shown by the redhead, everyone was quick to agree and the map was safely stowed away on Harry's person until such a time as it might be needed again.

"Remember," Harry cautioned, "If we get split up its red sparks for assistance needed, green for snakes and blue for Summers, alright?"

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

"I hate nature."

"I told you the Forest wasn't all it's cracked up to be," Draco growled under his breath. They'd barely been in the woods for twenty minutes and already his fingers were itching to deliver a paralyzing hex, or a stunning jinx, or _anything_ to get her to shut up! On a good day, a _typical_ day, Pansy's sarcastic commentary was funny, sometimes downright hilarious. Today however, was not a good day, and every time she opened her mouth he felt as if salt was being poured into a thousand tiny scratches all. Over. His. Body.

"Yes, but you didn't tell me there'd be _brambles_ ," Pansy pouted as she attempted to detangle her hair from a particularly spiny thorn-bush for the third time in as many minutes.

"Pans, it's a _FOREST_. Generally those are known to have a touch of the 'natural' about them," Blaise informed her dryly. He was determined to keep things light but between her bitching and Draco's tension lightening the mood was becoming a task fit for one of Hercules's Twelve Labors.

"Lumos," the blonde in question lit his wand and waved it about a bit, looking for a pair of bright blue eyes to leap out at him. Frustrated, he sent a wordless pulse of anger/annoyance/you-get-back-here- _right-now_ towards his Familiar…

… and felt his pique multiply a thousand-fold when all he received in reply was wordless satisfaction and what could only be described as 'fun.' A growl worthy of any lion issued from his tightly pursed lips and he kicked the nearest tree in a fool-hardy attempt to vent some of his anger.

Honestly, Familiars were supposed to be helpful, beneficial creatures. They were _not_ supposed to go about giving their respective witch or wizard a bloody heart attack by running off Merlin-knows-where to do Merlin-knows-what!

_Maybe,_ Draco reflected irritably, _I got a defective one._

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

A/N: I'm sure some of you are wondering WHY I chose to reformat this. The story calls for more than one arc, and truthfully all the stories thus far are a part of arc one. Also, my writing style has changed _drastically_ since I started this little journey with Dawn. I've found a niche writing darker, more angsty stories. I'm just not sure I can get back into the _mood_ of this tale, it's so much lighter than anything else I've put out lately. That said, I WILL finish at least arc one of this story even if it kills me.

Before reformatting this series it had a combined total of 319 reviews and 23 recs. Thanks everyone! I wish I could've kept them all but I couldn't, instead I'll just say thank you thank you thank you for all the lovely support!

###  28\. Into the Woods - Part Two

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Deeper into the woods the trees were older, having reached a height that blocked almost all light from the forest floor below. Small trees and shrubs that needed true sunlight to thrive died quick deaths in the perpetual twilight.

All things considered Dawn was expecting the creepy music to cue any minute now. Heck, she'd _welcome_ it! The quiet that permeated the woods was beyond creepy: there was no birdsong, no insect chirring, even her steps were whisper-soft - barely denting the thick undergrowth of decaying plant matter beneath her feet.

Entering a small clearing, Dawn paused and reached out to Draco. He was awake and very unhappy with her, his mental activity was half white noise and half expletives. She couldn't reach through the haze of frustration to communicate with him. His angry thoughts formed a shield of thorny brambles - it was painful to even attempt to breach his unintended defenses.

_This sucks,_ Dawn sighed disgustedly. Teach her to chase something just because it was shiny!

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

"Look, thestrals!"

Draco jerked himself out of his self-imposed funk just long enough to acknowledge the black, skeletal equines before continuing on down the grass-trail they had been following. Of course, Pansy's next words stopped him dead in his tracks:

"Really? Where? I don't see them."

The blonde spun so quickly he almost blurred, his jaw dropping in disbelief. He quickly recovered and was slightly mollified to note that Blaise was suffering from a similar state of absolute shock.

The amber-eyed boy pointed towards a small meadow just visible through abreak in the trees to their right. "They're right there, Pans. You - you mean you can't see them?"

She drew herself up proudly eyeing them somewhat disdainfully... and collapsed against a nearby tree giggling helplessly. "You - you should have seen y-your f-faces!" Tears of mirth began to collect in the corners of her eyes and she wiped them away, hands trembling as she tried to hold the laughter in. "Gods, oh, I haven't laughed that hard in _years_!"

"Not funny, _Parkinson_ ," Draco spat viciously.

The brunette recovered quickly at the venom in her friends tone. There was a touch of reproach in her voice, "Leave off, Drake. Honestly, I can't believe you fell for that! I've seen our lovely carriage-carters since I was twelve!"

The blonde said nothing, and soon they were off again. Nothing could be heard from the group for a few minutes except soft breathing and the occasional angry mutter from Draco or Pansy.

"When did you first see them?"

The faint-voiced query stopped Draco only because it was so completely out of character. Pansy was never _soft_. He looked back expecting to see something in her eyes to explain this line of questioning.

She was studying a small, rather nondescript flower, as if it held the answers to all the Sphinx's riddles. This avoidance gave him even more pause, if he had to come up with a list of words that typified the girl's usual attitude 'confrontational' would be on top of the list. So what was this.... dare he call it timidity?

"I was seven," he answered finally, quietly. "It was a week before my eighth birthday."

Pansy glanced up then and the look they exchanged held everything they felt but could not say. It was wistful and wry and not a little mournful, but what could be done? They were what they were.

"You never forget your first," she murmured.

Blaise finally turned from his inspection of the path ahead. "Really?" His usual drawl was firmly in place but his lackadaisical manner was sorely lacking. There was a flickering behind his eyes of rage long suppressed. "I must not have gotten that memo."

They were silent for a bit after their friend's unexpected confession and Blaise made no move to end the lull. His shoulders were tense and his amber eyes cloudy for a few more minutes before he shivered abruptly, like a dog shaking off water, and jabbed Draco lightly with the business end of his wand.

"C'mon now, lets go find the troublesome little kit."

Pansy took this as her cue to start complaining again, "Walking again? Why can't we just call a few brooms?"

"Don't you think someone might find it a bit dodgy if three brooms suddenly fly themselves into the middle of the Forbidden Forest?"

"Of course not, Blaise. She wasn't thinking at all."

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Ginny came to a sudden halt, causing Neville - who was currently on auto-pilot - and Luna - who was never fully in the cockpit - to crash into her back and send the redhead sprawling into Hermione... and successfully creating a domino-effect that landed the entire party on the ground.

"Ow," the sole Ravenclaw mumbled absently.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?"

"Put a sock in it Ronald."

"Ooh, she pulled out the full-first-name, Ronniekins."

"Stuff it, Ginny."

It took a few minutes to sort out the tangle of limbs, but once they were all on their feet and reasonably scourgified of forest debris, Ron repeated his question - ignoring Hermione's fierce glare at his uncouth language.

Ginny wasn't too pleased with his mouth either. She glared at him, "It occurs to me that as we are searching for Dawn Summers, we might need to plan out what we'll do once we _find_ her - "

"Stupefy?"

"Petrificus?"

"Incarcerous?"

"Have some tea?"

The youngest Weasley stifled a grin at her friend's suggestion. "Another thing, how are we going to recognize this 'Summers' woman when we meet her? We aren't using the map, and correct me if I'm wrong Harry, but I don't think it extends this far into the woods anyways."

"Point me," Hermione answered succinctly. She flushed a little as all eyes turned to her, "I've been using a variation I found in Oddment's Alternative Uses For Everyday Charms - if we'd gone too far off-track I'd have pointed it out, Gin."

The redhead shrugged, "Alright then, it's hard to tell what we're doing exactly from the fourth spot down the line. Just wanted to be sure we weren't following ikkle Ronnikins." She grinned, "He's got our mum's sense of direction."

"Hey - "

" - you resemble that remark," Harry interrupted. Seeing that the redheaded boy was gearing up for a rant, he quickly continued, "Remember second year? The Anglia?"

Ron blushed, "Oh yeah." His eyes lit up suddenly, "I've got a great idea!"

"Good to know that noggin isn't just stuffed with useless Chudley statistics."

"Stuff it, Gin."

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Dawn had at last realized the error of her ways and had proceeded to hunker down in a small hollow in a very large tree. She was quite comfortable, really, aside from the occasional odd poke in the fur from a pine needle.

She felt rather ridiculous waiting for Draco to come find her, but if it would get her out of these woods quicker then she was all for it. 'Damsel in distress' was a routine she'd played out with obnoxious regularity with Buffy. The only difference she saw here was that it was her own foolishness that had gotten her lost, and not an ill-planned kidnapping by some idiotic monologuing villain-of-the-microsecond.

The worst part of this plan was the _waiting_. It reminded her of the time she'd shattered her mother's favorite vase. Sitting there staring at the tiny fragments of porcelain, building up the confrontation in her mind, she'd become so exhausted and miserable that by the time her mother had arrived home she'd made herself ill.

Which kind of got her out of her punishment for a few days, but still, that wasn't the point.

Dawn wondered just how angry her Wizard would be with her. Then she jabbed at his mind gently to see if he was in a 'receiving' mood.

A big ol' buttload of anger-frustration- _where-the-hell-are-you_ came pouring into her skull. She sent back fragmented images of a tree and felt his frustration increase. They were in a _woods_ after all.

Apologetically she added a sense of 'staying put.' This seemed to mollify him somewhat, he calmed down enough to concentrate on the bond and suddenly her head tingled with a strange sense of _fullness_.

_Huh, this is weird._

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Pansy shrieked when Draco at first stumbled, then fell.

Blaise made a mental note to file away that high-pitched exclamation for a later round of teasing as he gently shook the seemingly-unconscious boy.

"Is he alright?"

"How in Merlin's name should I know? Maybe the stress was all too much, maybe he fainted of hunger, maybe he's anemic - I'm not a bloody medi-wizard, you know!"

They hovered over the blonde until he started to twitch and shiver a few minutes later, at last blinking dazedly and sitting up. He looked altogether ruffled, something that did nothing to comfort either of the other two Slytherins.

Pansy was the first to recover, "What the bleedin' hell just happened?"

Draco blinked furiously, "I was using Regina's eyes." He squinted around the dark forest for a moment before remarking inanely, "Did you know that kneazles see more colors than we do?"

"Well we do NOW, thanks for the tip Drake, I'll be sure to tell it to my solicitor so he can invest in some _BLOODY KNEAZLE EYEBALLS_!" The brunette girl growled something quietly under her breath and stalked off a ways where she shot occasional vicious glares at the two boys and tried to calm down.

"I think you had her a bit worried, mate," Blaise remarked.

Draco stood and dusted himself off. "I'm fine," he insisted, and immediately staggered against the nearest tree."

Quick as a flash Pansy was by his side once again, "Don't you dare faint again, Draco Mercury Malfoy!"

He drew himself up to his full height, fairly towering over the girl, "I did not faint."

"Well then what do you call what you just did?"

"Surprise nap?" Blaise offered.

"Stuff it, Blaise." Draco sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, a gesture oddly reminiscent of the his least favorite person on the planet. "It was just a bit of vertigo, Regina's a lot closer to the ground than I am."

"You were able to contact her, then? Do you know where she is now?"

"Yes," he pointed in a westerly direction, "We should reach her in about twenty minutes."

"How long if we run?" Blaise inquired, ignoring Pansy's groan at the dreaded 'r' word.

"Twenty minutes _if_ we run," Draco smirked.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

"I - hate - this - blood - y - thing," Hermione gritted out as a rather large bump made her bite her tongue once again. She was crammed in between Harry and Ron with very little room and extremely unhappy with the situation.

"Language 'Mione!"

"Stuff - ouch! - it, Ron."

"This is not the way to conduct a proper hunt," Luna muttered disapprovingly.

"Relax, Lu. We're not hunting for gnargles."

The blonde was not soothed by Ginny's words.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Dawn crept out of her little hidey-hole. Her Wizard was on his way with Blaise and Pansy in tow, and after such a long day she wanted nothing more than to curl up on Draco's pillow and enjoy a good scratch.

A soft rumbling made her cock her head to the side, it grew steadily louder until she could feel the earth beneath her vibrating faintly as the noise-maker drew nearer.

_What the - it almost sounds like -_

She saw two bright beams of light through the trees ahead, bouncing up and down over the uneven ground. Some small part of her brain chose that moment to remark, _Huh, so this is how deer feel._

Self-preservation instincts she didn't even know she had took over and set her feet running but she was no match for four wheels and a magically-enhanced engine. She head a brief crack, felt a brief crunch and then everything faded to black...

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  29\. Very-Very-Maimed

Disclaimer in first chapter.

♦♦♦ **A few weeks earlier...** ♦♦♦

Severus Snape was feeling a mite twitchy.

Meetings with the Headmaster always gave him a headache; generally he tried to avoid the twinkling, smiling, benevolent man whenever possible. On those occasions when he was forced to seek his superior out, he tried to schedule the encounter in such a way that he had the least possible amount of time to think about it.

He knew _exactly_ how the old man would start the conversation. Honestly, in all the years he had worked for and with the Headmaster, he had never accepted any form of sweet from him. After near twenty years, did Albus seriously entertain the notion that this would change? Nevertheless he could count on an offer of a 'lemon drop' or some other such nonsensical muggle candy.

Watching Albus proffer the aforementioned dish of yellow spheres, Severus resisted the urge to grind his teeth. "No, thank you," he said stiffly.

"Ah well, more for me," so saying, the gray-bearded man popped one into his mouth and proceeded to suck on it - quite loudly. "Now, what was it you wished to see me about?"

"Mr. Malfoy has recently acquired a Familiar."

"Yes, the kneazle Regina, if I'm not mistaken. Quite a charming little creature from what I've been told." Dumbledore smiled that secretive little smile of his, and Severus felt the pounding begin in his left temple.

He had expected this, Albus always knew what was going on in his castle. Nobody was quite sure if this was due to the portraits, Fawkes, or maybe even the way the Headmaster was tied into the wards that protected Hogwarts. The cause did not matter, the end result was a thoroughly uncanny knowledge of almost all that went on within the stone walls.

"Yes, Regina," Severus sneered, it was a ridiculous name for the Familiar of a Slytherin. That was not what he was here to discuss however, "Have you heard of her rather unusual markings?"

"Why, she looks like quite the little lioness, doesn't she?" Albus smiled gently, "Nothing to worry about, I'm sure Severus, your godson is as Slytherin as they come."

The potions master was a little amused by this indelicate attempt to soothe his 'fragile feelings,' as if he was some Hufflepuff needing reassurances. "Not that, Regina is distinctly lacking in stripes."

"Not all that unusual, I myself have seen several Kneazles who were spotted instead of striped, it may just be a result of selective breeding."

"She _does_ have stripes, two on her stomach. They're diagonal slashes, and I have reason to believe that she received them from a dark athame."

Dumbledore frowned at this new information, "Indeed? How odd."

"Odd?" Severus's lips quirked just the slightest bit at the corners, it was not quite a grimace. "It looks as if she was intended to be the sacrifice in an elaborate ritual, that is not what I would call 'odd.'"

"Disturbing, then."

The professor rolled his eyes, "Alright, yes, it is disturbing. What do you intend to do about it?"

"Do?" The headmaster's eyes widened in surprise, "Why, I'm not going to _do_ anything. She has caused no problems and, aside from what you have just told me, appears to be the picture of a young Familiar. I have great hopes for her influence upon young Draco. If you feel the need to watch her, Severus, then I shall appreciate any information you see fit to share, but as it stands now I see no reason to involve myself directly."

"As you wish," Severus gave his superior a short nod and swept from the room, he was looking forward to the headache potion likely still steaming away on his work table. The meeting had gone about as he expected, he was satisfied that Dumbledore had enough information to at least start actively looking for a bit more information on the strange kneazle, despite what the man had stated regarding his potential actions on the possible threat Regina represented.

Albus might not always strike first, but he was typically the one who struck last. As Grindelwald had discovered much to his dismay... Severus allowed himself a small smirk, who would have thought a Slytherin would find his greatest ally in one of Godric's descendants?

♦♦♦ **Present Day** ♦♦♦

Draco screamed as if struck by an invisible arrow, clutching at his head as he fell to his knees. He braced himself against the ground and shivered, panting for a bit while Blaise and Pansy looked on unsure of what to do.

An instant later he was on his feet and sprinting for all he was worth, friends right behind. The next few minutes were spent silently, but for the harsh breathing and pounding feet of the three Slytherins. Blaise and Pansy were a bit startled when they broke into the clearing that was their destination.

The blonde went unerringly to a large tree, skirting around a small patch of blood. He groaned as a crumpled brown form came into view, scooping the furry bundle into his arms, he rocked back and forth - a harsh keening sounding from deep in the back of his throat.

"Drake?" Blaise reached out a hand to his friend's shoulder, jerking back at the pure malevolence directed his way when those strange silver eyes looked his way. "Draco, we need to get her to the infirmary. D'you hear me Drake? The in-fir-mar-y." He spoke slowly, as if to a wild animal.

The description was not far off as there was something distinctly feral in the blonde's eyes. Carefully, Draco got to his feet and Pansy couldn't hold back a gasp at the sight of Regina. Her side was laid open, a flap of flesh seemed to have been scored clean off leaving muscle and a few glimpses of white bone shockingly visible.

"I-is she?"

"No, but we need to get to the infirmary, NOW!" Blaise's face was almost white, there was a distinctly pinched look about his features.

Abruptly the two dark-haired Slytherins spun at the sound of voices coming closer through the woods, accompanied by the tramping of feet.

" - are you _sure_?"

"Yes, Ron, we passed her in the car. Besides, we're _much_ better off on foot."

"You just don't like cars."

"And you don't like walking."

"Through these woods? Are you mad? Of _course_ I don't like walking! There are - " The redhead's tirade was cut short as they came in sight of the trio standing silently. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Blaise looked down at the tire tracks that cut through the clearing and his mind made the leap - more like small baby step - from _tire_ to _car_. When he lifted his head his amber eyes were nearly black with rage, his muscles tensed beneath his clothing as he prepared to unleash a slew of curses and -

"Accio broom."

The sound of Draco's voice, dull and almost lifeless, snapped the darker boy out of his mindless fury. He turned to see the blonde still facing the castle, his wand raised as a whistling noise became steadily louder. A black Nimbus 2001 rocketed down through the branches to hover impatiently beside Draco. He slung a leg over and was gone in the blink of an eye.

Satisfied that Regina would be taken care of, Blaise turned back to the Gryffindors. The smile on his face was one commonly seen on the faces of sociopaths and murderers the world over. Simultaneously the Gryffindor group took one giant step back, and even Luna was frowning a bit. Though that was no doubt for the best since the sight of the furious teen had one seemingly innocuous phrase pitter-pattering around in her brain.

_The hunters becomes the hunted,_ the Ravenclaw mused, _Or in this case, the soon-to-be-very-very-maimed._

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Madam Pomfrey had worked as the nurse in Hogwarts Infirmary for almost thirty years. In her tenure she had seen many things that would make a trainee medi-witches scream, and not a few funny or just plain bizarre things.

She could not say that having a patient brought to her by broomstick was new. Many a Quidditch player, flushed by recent victory, had elected to fly him or herself up to be seen to instead of the oh-so-mundane alternative of walking. She had even seen to a few familiar - and _Familiars_ \- in her time, under some of the strangest circumstances.

So while the sight of Draco Malfoy tapping impatiently at her window, kneazle cradled in his lap, gave her some pause, it did not in any way prevent her from doing her job. She took the feline from him with little fuss, shoving him into a chair while she saw to the sluggishly bleeding wound.

"Dear, dear, and how did _this_ happen? Students these days, no respect for the limits of the body, it's a wonder I haven't seen more of you this year with a kneazle for a Familiar. Did she fall out of a tree? No worries, we'll have you fixed up in no - oh dear..."

The potion Poppy had smeared across the gash was intended for the use of all sorts of magical creatures. When used properly it turned a brilliant blue-white before sinking into the injury to protect against any and all possible bacterial invasions.

Conversely, when used on _humans_ (be they magical or un) it turned a dull red and caused extreme hair-growth for a few minutes - time length depending on the individual's particular physiology. On the young kneazle it was turning an odd sort of purple and slowly spreading to cover her entire body in a sporadically pulsing light.

This was unexpected and most assuredly not something Poppy was prepared to deal with. Hence the 'oh dear.' Even in the worst of circumstances, nothing that could be described as 'language' would escape the Madam's mouth, even _if_ all she really felt could be more accurately represented in the phrase:

_Oh bugger._

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  30\. Enter the Demon

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

"Blaise, I don't think this is a very good - "

At his look of burning rage, Pansy decided that _that_ particular comment was best left unfinished. She found herself in the rather unusual position of actually pitying the Gryffs - and the Weasels in particular.

It had not been difficult to deduce _who_ exactly could claim ownership of the car. Lovegood and Longbottom were out, both families were too old and too purely wizard to have such an unwieldy machine (Xenophilius's extreme eccentricity notwithstanding). Much though they loathed Granger, both Slytherins respected her intelligence too much to believe that she would bring a _muggle_ invention to a _magical_ forest.

That left the Weasels and Scarhead.

Arthur Weasley was a longtime employee of the Misuse of Magical Artifacts. A commonly known fact, much to the detriment of his two children. So while the others had merely been sunk into suddenly-mobile earth up to their elbows, both redheads were trussed up with enough magically conjured ropes to encircle the Quidditch pitch.

Pansy sighed and surveyed the bound forms with resignation, "Nothing that'll get you thrown into Azkaban, alright?"

He jerked his head in acknowledgement and raised his wand to begin.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Albus was used to being summoned by various personages of import throughout his day. An average of twelve ministry owls found their way to his office throughout the course of each and every morning. Not to mention the various missives he received from other countries, schools, or personages unaffiliated with Fudge.

He did not often receive summons from within the household so to speak; he had ears and eyes in every corner of his domain. Dumbledore's timeliness and general knowledge of the happenings and circumstances of Hogwarts was second to none. The Headmaster had a knack for showing up precisely where he was needed at the exact moment those in trouble began to think of asking for help.

Some circumstances, however, are impossible to foresee.

Albus was startled to recognize the nightingale patronus that fluttered onto his desk as Madam Pomfrey's. She was the picture of competence and rarely needed his aid in anything other than possible missives to overly-protective parents. He wondered what could possibly require his assistance.

" _ **TROUBLE. MALFOY. FAMILIAR,**_ " was the entirety of the terse note. By the time the third word had finished ringing through the room, Albus was already halfway down the circular stairs.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Severus cursed, coming as close to sprinting as he was ever likely to be, it was all that damned bird's fault. Stupid pigeon didn't seem to understand the concept of ' _walking_.' Several students unfortunate enough to be in his path lost monumental amounts of points when they were too slow to get out of the way of the dark professor.

Fawkes had tumbled into the center of an extremely delicate potions working, ruining a good six months of work. Whatever Dumbledore wanted with him had better be important, else there would be hell to pay.

He was mildly surprised to find that Fawkes was leading him towards the hospital wing instead of the Headmaster's office. Despite himself he began to feel slight worry creeping up his spine. Madame Pomfrey was undeniably capable - if not a little bossy. Beyond supplying her with the few potions she could not brew herself, Severus felt little to no need to further their acquaintance.

The Potions Master swept into the infirmary, scowl etched onto his brow, only to feel all his blood flee his face as quickly as his fierce expression when he took in the scene:

Draco looking ashen and about as lifelike as one of the Kissed, sitting hunched against the wall. His eyes were glazed and fixed upon the ceiling and were it not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, Severus would have thought the boy dead.

Albus and Pomfrey were both standing at the foot of one of the beds. The half-drawn curtains blocked his view of the cot's occupant, but nothing could hide the strange violet light that bathed the two adults, obviously emanating from this unseen personage. The eerie brilliance pulsed oddly and seemed to be growing as he watched, the light spreading up the walls and away from the cot to spill onto others.

"Severus, I believe you may want to take a look at this," Dumbledore intoned quietly, no trace of his usual twinkle could be heard in his tone.

Coming closer, Snape blinked as the light's intensity increased, forced to squint a little in order to see. Circling the cot he stopped short at the bizarre thing lying on the bed. Shocked, he looked closer, his black eyes widening to almost comical proportions.

"She's - but that's - Albus, _what happened_?"

The Headmaster's blue eyes were tired and worried, "That, my dear boy, is something I would like to know as well."

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

She was floating in a not-space full of not-things. Well, maybe ' _floating_ ' wasn't exactly the best word for it. ' _Floating_ ' implied some sort of knowledge of where the ground was, and the recognition that you were somehow, for some reason, hovering above it.

She didn't know where the ground was, she didn't even know if there _was_ ground here, wherever ' _here_ ' was. She felt as if she ought to be somewhere, with someone, but she wasn't and she didn't know _why_.

Frustration welled up in the teen, and she shouted, screaming her pent-up anger out into the blankness, the gray area that surrounded her. Abruptly the sound cut off, her blue eyes going wide with shock as her hands - _her hands!_ \- slowly rose to touch her mouth, neck, arms, torso, all the way down her body.

She was human again!

She frowned, had she been not-human before? She couldn't remember much of that, much of anything really. She searched through her brain, trying to ferret out a little bit of something, some tiny tidbit that would help explain why she was in this not-place.

"Hullo, kitten."

She looked up in surprise to find a man standing - _floating?_ \- before her where there had been only not-space before. He was short and dressed in an outfit that even she, with her complete un-knowledge - could classify as 'bad.'

The stranger tipped his dark-purple bowler hat to her before seemingly sitting down, though upon what was a question for more scientific minds. "You got screwed, kitten, and we're trying to make it up to you."

"I got screwed?" She tried out her voice, finding that it worked for something other than screaming brought a smile to her face before she remembered what the odd man had just said. "How did I get 'screwed'?"

"The monks," he answered succinctly.

"Monks? I'm sorry, I don't understand."

He sighed and rolled his eyes up - _was that 'up'?_ \- muttering something about 'no easy way.' Suddenly a beam of bright light appeared and bathed her in its violet glow. Her body thrummed with recognition and seemed to spread out to soak up every stray bit of this strange illumination until every last drop had absorbed inside of her and they were surrounded by darkness once more.

Dawn glowered at the balance-demon, "Whistler..."

"Kitten..."

"Don't call me that! That's Blaise's name for me!"

He shrugged, "What d'you _want_ me to call you?"

"How about 'goodbye'? What are you doing here? Where IS here? Why was I 'screwed' by the monks? How come I couldn't remember anything until after that light? What happened to me?" Her eyes widened as she recalled the last few minutes before she had ended up here in the not-place, "Ohmygod, I died, didn't I? _I DIED!_ That's why you said I was screwed - "

The hand pressed firmly across her mouth effectively halted the epic-babble that had just spewed from her lips. Whistler was looking at her with a combination of admiration and exasperhation.

"Geez kid, you sure got some lungs on you. Ok," he took a deep breath, rubbing his hands together, "Here goes: I don't want to call you 'goodbye' until after I'm done explaining things to you; I'm here to tell you why YOU'RE here; 'here' is a pocket-plane connected to your mind and one of the neutral dimensions; because they didn't think they had any other choice, unimaginative idiots; I thought it would be easier for me to deal with you without getting threatened; you were hit by a car; no you didn't die - or at least, you're not gonna STAY dead."

Dawn mulled that over in her head for a few minutes, "Huh?"

Whistler sighed, "Look kid, would you just shut up long enough for me to say my piece? Then you can ask me to answer all your stinkin' questions, capiche?"

"Capiche," she muttered reluctantly.

"Alright then, kid, it's like this: the Powers feel they sort of owe you one for, well, a lot of things really. First off, the whole Key-thing - you weren't supposed to be dragged into that, free will and all - "

"Wait, what do you mean? I was created as the Key, how was I supposed to have a choice in that?" She ignored his glare at her interruption and folded her arms across her chest, giving him her best 'resolve face' as she waited for his answer.

"You weren't always the Key. What, you think the Monks made a body from scratch? They were priests, not mages, they hijacked another being and made you from it." He held up a hand to forestall the interruption he knew was coming, "Yes, they made you from Buffy and Joyce, but most of your 'you' is from this other thing."

"'Being'? ' _Thing_ '? ' _ **It**_ ' You make it sound like I wasn't human," she shifted uncomfortably.

"Well..." Whistler cocked his head to the side and studied her intently, "See, that's the thing kid: you weren't."

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

###  31\. Wha - WHAT?!

Disclaimer: in first chapter.

A/N: at end.

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"Pomfrey, go get Minerva, she might be able to shed some light upon Regina's present circumstances," Dumbledore instructed the agitated witch quietly. She nodded and rushed from the room, happy to be out of range of that disturbing violet glow.

Snape shot an unfathomable look at the Headmaster, "You have some idea of what this is, don't you? Or at least some suspicion, yes you must, else you wouldn't have sent the only _trained_ medi-witch in the castle off on some insignificant errand."

Dumbledore smiled, "Oh Severus, you know me too well. Yes, I have had my own theories about young Regina for quite some time. She has taken quite a shine to Miss Lovegood, hasn't she?"

"Yes," the Potions Master agreed, repressing the urge to grind his teeth, "But what does that have to do with this?" He gestured towards the bed and at the figure laying upon it.

What had once been a Kneazle was now most definitely not. The pale brown fur so reminiscent of a lioness had been the first thing to go, unceremoniously shed as a whole. Madame Pomfrey had managed to get the majority of it off the bed and away from her patient, it sat in a small bag at the end of the bed. Without her fur, Regina looked much smaller, rather helpless as her hairlessness highlighted the obvious wound on her side and the previous scars across her belly.

Slowly, under their watchful and confused gaze, what had been a Kneazle was slowly morphing into something that was definitely _not_. If Severus had to make a guess he would say that what was on the bed was probably a hominid of some sort, though it was still changing and what it would end as was anyone's guess at this point.

"Are you familiar - pardon the pun - with some of the more _controversial_ theories on Merlin's familiar?" Dumbledore inquired, completely derailing the Potions Master's train of thought. "Specifically those referring to her, ahem, _relationship_ with him?"

Severus flushed, of all the things for the Headmaster to bring up at the moment, the possible bestial proclivities of one of their most renowned historical figures was definitely not what he had been expecting! "I had heard and discounted the stories," he said slowly, "I myself subscribe more to the theory that he had _no_ familiar."

"Oh, he had a familiar, Severus. In this case, I find it rather ironic that the muggle legends scratch closer to the surface of the truth than our own. Did you know that some of the muggle's tales end with Merlin being turned into a tree?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling merrily.

"No," Severus bit out through gritted teeth, "I did not. Professor - "

" _Quite_ fascinating, really. In fact, Merlin's affection for trees, and nature in general, stemmed from the fact that his familiar was a _dryad_ , a rather lovely one from what little rumor I have been able to dig up."

"Wha - what?"

The Headmaster basked for a moment in the rare feeling of accomplishment that suffused him when he managed to render his unflappable Potions Master speechless. "I believe that Regina has more in common with Merlin's familiar than with, say, Miss Granger's Crookshanks. But we shall see. In the meantime, Severus, would you care for a spot of tea while we wait on Poppy and Minerva?"

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

"Not human?" If there had been something to sit sink down onto in this not-place, Dawn would've sat down with a 'thump.' "I'm not human?"

"Not originally." He shifted sideways and took a step back, it was usually at this point in his visits that the Slayer would start to threaten him - he wasn't taking any chances with little sis. The girl looked nice and shell-shocked, it was the perfect time to finish dropping the other shoe. "Kiddo?"

Her eyes were wide as she stared off at the nothing that surrounded them, "What?"

"There's more..."

Dawn flapped a hand at him, "Make with the telling. It's not like there's anything left that could shock me." She chuckled a little, "First I'm not real, I'm some sort of mythical destructo-device, then I'm made from Buffy and Joyce, then I'm stuck as some sort of weirdo cat - because the universe hates me - and now you tell me that I was something ELSE, something not-human, before all this mess that is my life? Tell me Whistler, what else could there be?"

"You're not the only Key anymore?"

"WHAT?!"

He winced at the shrill tone of the teen's shriek, "Look kid, Glorificus's ritual wasn't supposed to go that far. She was supposed to be killed way back, but the Powers didn't take into account random whack-jobs like Doc and Ben going all hail-the-Hellbitch. When the portal got opened they had a chance to do a little fixing, a quick dirty fix mind you, but some fixing all the same. They took the monk's original spellwork, that's you Dawn, and the Key's essence and they... well, they spread it out."

"Huh?"

Whistler sighed, "The Key can't be destroyed, but it can't be left to sit in one dimension either. If it does, it'll be like a second Hellmouth, calling all the evils of the world to take advantage of the big-shiny-green-orb of power. Bad idea. So the Powers took the Key energy and the monk-spell and voila! You're not the only Dawn anymore."

"I repeat, huh?"

The balance-demon huffed, Powers save him from annoying teenagers who didn't take their science electives. "You used to be an original, the only Dawn in all the multiverse, capiche?"

"Ok, one girl in all the multiverse, got it."

"When the portal opened, the Powers managed to spread the monk's spell through all the different dimensions. There is now a Dawn in every possible world and she's exactly like you, for all intents and purposes she IS you. Just born into a different family, so maybe you minus Buffy and Joyce's tender influences. Every single one of these Dawn's has a tiny bit of the Key in them, just enough to give them an extra 'oomph' but not enough to make them the latest greatest taste-sensation since the Siamese cat."

"Ew to the kitten poker reference, and double ick cuz hey! Been a cat for the last six months! Do not take kindly to the thought of people - erm, demons - eating my feline brethren."

"Feline you may be - well, sort of - but you're not really a kneazle."

"Ok... huh?"

Whistler stifled a smile, geez if he'd known that confusion trumped anger he'd have shown up to give the Slayer doom-news with a box of chocolates laced with LSD. Ah well... "Look, kid - "

"No, _you_ look, Mister-balancey-demon-of-the-atrocious-wardrobe! I have been transmogrified, kidnapped, hit by a car, and confused by your blinding clothing and muddled explanations _long enough_! Just... just give it to me straight, ok?"

The messenger nodded, chastened out of his usual sarcastic attitude by the genuine tears in Dawn's eyes. "Like I said, the monks weren't mages, just well-meaning protector-types with a whole lot of pure intent and the backing of a few of the more powerful players on the side of all that's Light and fluffy. They had to work with what was closest to them, and they were on a mountain when they first 'set' the spell, so the original 'donator' to your... erm... _existence_ was a nephelae."

"A _what?_ " She threw up a hand to forestall his forthcoming explanation, "I _know_ what a nephelae is!" Dawn's hands clenched into fists at her sides and her eyes flashed with fury, "Are you trying to tell me that - that I'm some sort of freaking _cloud sprite_?!"

"Well, technically a 'sprite' is a dryad or a - "

" _WHISTLER!_ "

"Well, yes and no kid. Y'see, the nephelae was only the first ingredient. When the monks finally set the spell loose and really _made_ you made you, there was another ingredient: your sister. Only they really didn't take into account _all_ that your sister brought to the equation." He eyed her meaningfully, waiting for the knowledge to sink into her overtaxed brain.

Dawn went pale and swallowed weakly, licking her lips. "The Slayer?"

"Right in one, kiddo. So we got nephelae, Slayer, and Key all running through your veins and making you a veritable potluck of mystical hoo-ha. When the Powers did their spread-the-joy schtick, they managed to lay some of it to rest, but you still have bits of Key in you. They had to get you off the 'mouth, so they - ah, _encouraged_ \- the Watcher to take you with him to England. They figured that you'd be better off with a more experienced eye to look after you, and eventually _someone_ would figure out that something 'wiggy' was going on."

The teenager rolled her eyes, "Have your bosses been paying _any_ attention to us the last few years? When do we _ever_ figure out something wiggy this way comes until the last friggin' minute?!"

"Ya gotta point there, kid, but that's how free will works. So, there you are all magically-maladied and a whole Coven of the world's most experienced witches right there and _somehow_ you manage to get in even more trouble!"

"What can I say?" Dawn asked, idly inspecting a - gasp! HUMAN! - fingernail. "It must have been a Tuesday."

"It was a Thursday," Whistler informed her wryly, "Not that it matters. Anyways, you botched your spell and added a whole 'nother layer of magical residue on top of the rest and then you managed to get yourself _bonded_ to a player in one of the _other_ great wars the Powers are lookin' after."

"The whole thing with Draco and I," Dawn started, looking rather worried, "That's not some weird mojo-thing that the Powers have gimmicked up to keep me in line, is it?"

"Nah, that's 100% your own, kid. The PTB are finding that whatever universe they plunk you in, you manage to be an agent of Chaos." He chuckled, "In some of the other multi-verses, you manage to hook up with that Harris kid and start some _real_ trouble!"

She nodded, looking relieved. "So I'm a nephelae-Slayer-Kneazle-Key-thing. Does that about sum it up?"

"Basically," the balance-demon nodded, then winced, "Except for the fact that somehow within the last half-hour or so you've managed to become something else entirely. We're not sure what, or how, but you're not even _remotely_ human anymore. You've got more of the Slayer-nephelae left than anything else."

Dawn frowned down at her feet, watching herself stand on nothing was a bit of a head-trip, but it wasn't _anything_ compared with what Whistler was telling her. "So... where does that leave me?"

"Dunno kid, the Powers just wanted you brought up to speed so you won't freak out _too_ much when - "

"When what?"

"When you wake up."

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A/N2: So... hi everyone! Anyhoo, this chapter is for everyone who reviewed so nicely (you know who you are). Life sucks, and I'm sorry. Bit rushed right now, but I thought you might want this chapter NOW, along with the assurances that I'll be working on finishing the rest soonish. Life and full-time job permitting.

Oh, and a "nephelae" is something I wiki'ed. It's supposed to be a cloud-spirit, along the same order as a dryad or a naiad. THIS is where the whole story has been going since the beginning, folks. Don't believe me? Look back at some of Luna's commentary...

Toodles till next chappie!

###  32\. Too far

Disclaimer: I own neither BtVS nor Harry Potter (don't I wish). They belong to Joss and JK, respectively, the lucky dogs!

IMPORTANT! THE FOLLOWING IS NOT EDITED, and I'm not entirely sure that I am pleased with the way that it came out... oh well. Also, THIS IS NOT EDITED. REPEAT, NOT EDITED. That is all.

 

 

 

Draco felt distinctly odd. Underlying the _rage-fear-pain_ he felt due to Regina's injury was an odd sort of detachment. He felt like part of him was missing, not the piece of soul that one would expect from the near-death of a Familiar, but a part of his _mind_. He had thoughts, ideas, and he knew that they ought be connecting into a greater whole, knew that there were things he ought to be putting together (things rather more complex than 2+2=4) but that last step, that _ah-ha!_ finish, was beyond his current mental faculties.

His godfather and the Headmaster were talking, bent over the bed that housed Regina as if closer visual inspection would reveal some basic universal truth. Draco wondered vaguely what it was that they were looking at or for. From his position on the floor all that he could see was a general violet glow, pulsing in time with his heart beat and, presumably, Regina's. What the glow meant, Madame Pomfrey couldn't – or wouldn't – tell him. It terrified him almost as much as seeing Regina broken and bleeding on the ground had. Draco thought that he'd reached his outer limit for fear.

The violet light suddenly exploded. No warning, no extra pulses, it just filled the room to bursting. It reached out to Draco, almost as if it were a tangible thing, growing more solid, somehow _heavier_ the nearer to him it drew. He was lifted and placed gently down almost on top of Regina's hospital bed, his hands forced into the thickest part of the light.

Draco discovered that much like magic, fear has no outer limits.

~~~~~

Severus and Albus could only watch as the violet light suffused the room, moving Draco about as if he were as light as air. They too, were lifted and deposited a further five feet back away from the bed. Winding tendrils of light ensured that their feet stuck fast to the floor. Both men heard a muffled pounding and could only assume that the light – the _magic_ – was blocking Poppy from leaving her supply area.

"Albus, what – what _is_ this?"

"I do not know, my boy." The Headmaster frowned, "It does not seem malevolent."

"No…" Severus replied, drawing the word out, "merely uncontrolled and effecting my godson!"

They could only watch as the light, apparently satisfied with the placement of things, moved on. It condensed, from filling the room to concentrating only on where it held them and the figure in the bed. The light shrouding Regina became so intense, so _solid_ that the men were forced to shut their eyes. Even through their eyelids, Regina was a shining thing, a silhouette that had grown to fill the bed, though the light was obscuring all but the general hominid shape of her.

The brightness died too, and all that was left was a thick purple fog that moved like water but shown like glass. It was opaque and still vividly purple for only a moment, and then it began to change again. A pale green light cut two diagonal slashes through the purple, then spread like water across the entirety of the structure, sliding up Draco's hands where they were encased in the purple light and caressing his wrists gently until he could pull them free. He stared at his own hands for a moment, wondering at the fact that they remained unchanged, before turning his eyes back to the green and purple on the bed. The green light coated the purple like a thin layer of icing, then sank into it, disappearing but for a faint shimmer catching the eye at certain angles.

As soon as the green disappeared, a thick boiling black-red mass seemed to congeal at the center of the purple light. It writhed and twisted violently, sliding back and forth across the purple until suddenly tendrils of violet reached in and began to pull it apart. Unlike the green light, the red did not spread evenly, it seemed concentrated in seven points spread throughout. It was still vaguely spherical, still twisted, but the purple light subsumed it and made it a part of the whole.

Blue-white light began to break through the purple/violet, as if it were a shell. At first in small places, but then larger, and more, and faster, until the purple cracked throughout and shattered, the pieces dissipating in the air. The blue-white corona pulsed twice then sank down onto the bed, drawing in and in and darkening slowly until at last where once there had been light, there was now a body.

Severus stepped forward slowly, drawing up to the bed and gently taking one delicate wrist in his hand. The pulse was strong and slow, but most assuredly there. Once assured that Regina, or whatever had replaced her, was alive, he turned back to the Headmaster.

"More like Merlin's Familiar than Ms. Granger's, eh? Tell me, then, _what_ is _that_?!"

The Headmaster moved forward and studied the creature on the bed. "I am not entirely sure," he said at last. Meeting Severus's thunderous expression with a twinkling smile, he added, "I am sure it will be a great adventure finding out, though."

~~~~~

"Blaise. _Blaise!_ That's enough." Pansy was proud of herself, her voice was steady and strong, no sign of the cracking she was sure would be there. Her hands had curled into fists, one around her wand and the other around the cloth covering her stomach. Her gag reflex had attempted to act up a few minutes ago, necessitating some quick meditative exercises to get it settled down. What Blaise had done to the two Weasleys showcased his creativity, his anger, and the lessons drilled into him by an ever-revolving myriad of morally shady stepfathers and the cruel mother he so resembled.

The Weaselette was still bound and gagged, a few minor hexes had robbed her of hearing and sight because sometimes not knowing what was going on when you knew that _something_ was going on was the most effective torture. Make no mistake, what Blaise was doing _was_ torture. The boy-Weasel was currently covered in thousands of tiny spiders, a manifestation of his worst fear. They weren't biting him or in any way physically _harming_ him, but their presence and the thin layer of webbing that was slowly encasing him had white showing all the way around his eyes like a frightened horse.

Potter, Granger, and Longbottom looked on with terrified expressions. An implacable anger was growing in the Boy-Who-Lived's eyes and firming the lines of his mouth. Pansy was frightened of _and_ for Blaise at this point. True, he wasn't really _harming_ the two Weasleys, per se, but the look on his face, the unfettered _rage_ was terrible to behold.

"The wind is telling secrets," came a whispering voice behind Pansy. She spun around to be faced with the Lovegood girl, still up to her elbows in the dirt, looking grim. She met Pansy's dark brown eyes with her own misty blue, looking not so misty right now, more serious. "It is done. Tell him! It is _done_ and she is well."

Pansy had no idea what Loony was saying, but something of her urgency communicated itself. She found herself lifting her wand and casting several _Finite Incantatem's_ in rapid succession. Both Weasel and Weaselette lay on the ground, unmoving, while Blaise slowly turned to face her.

"That's _enough_ , Blaise." This time her voice cracked, but not with fear. She was suddenly sad, terribly sad for the child-man in front of her: the boy who didn't remember who he'd first seen dead and the adult he was becoming, filled with so much anger that he could be pushed past caring for the consequences of his actions.

For a moment it seemed that he would try to fight her on this. His fingers twitched around his wand and then he abruptly relaxed into his customary slouch, favoring her with a lopsided grin. "Went a bit overboard, didn't I?"

"Just a bit," Potter spat.

Blaise's eyes hardened, "You and yours have done enough today, _Scarface_. Kindly _shut up_."

"We should head up to the castle, see if there's anything we can do," Pansy offered by means of distraction.

"Nothing you can _do_. It's done. Finished," Luna informed them all brightly.

"What do you _mean_ it's _finished_?"

The blonde turned her head towards Blaise, expression softening a tad, "Regina is fine now. Right as a rainy dawn..."

~~~~~

Draco stared at his Familiar, because despite her form the connection in his head, heart, and magic still recognized the creature on the bed as being inextricably linked to him. She was no longer a kneazle, which was quite apparent. She looked, in fact, like a girl; a bit younger than he himself was, maybe, but definitely vaguely human-shaped. She was tall and loose-limbed, a human would have been referred to as "coltish" but her length suited her, and there was a sense of overall grace that was missing from those who were half-grown.

Her hair was long, waist-length at least, and the same fawn brown as her kneazle-coat had been. Looked at this way, or that, it had a faint glimmering sheen of purple or green, colors that looked oddly _right_ for her. Her skin was pale, an almost bone white, the faint blue of veins showing through quite clearly where her skin was at its thinnest. All these features could be attributed to odd breeding or glamourie, but the pointed ears and markings that adorned her skin quite clearly marked her as "not human."

Her ears were slightly too high up on her skull, and rose to points that curved ever-so-slightly forwards. On the tips were a few faint blue lines that caught the light, drawing the eye. These lines were echoed elsewhere on her skin, outlining her eyes and in some places providing an outer tracing of the veins. Still others were quite obviously runes, some he recognized, some he didn't, but every sort of ancient or runic script he had ever heard of or seen was represented somewhere on her body.

Madame Pomfrey bustled up, having finally managed to extricate herself from her own office. "Mr. Malfoy, this is highly inappropriate! The young lady is unclothed!" She gripped his arm and attempted to wrest him away from the bed.

Draco laid one hand over hers, gripping firmly, and removed it. "The 'young lady' is my Familiar."

A sharp gasp drew their attention and the Slytherin found himself meeting large, bright blue eyes.

"Draco?!"


End file.
